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itsgoghtime · 1 year

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Hello hello! I’ve missed you all and I’m super excited to get back into all the analysis posts for all the amazing fics that are coming out! (@sophieswundergarten you posted a new chapter on yours the day I decided that I was going to finish these ones and DANG ITS SO GOOD and I have thoughts that I will post on yours later!)

Spoilers and all the thoughts ahead for one of my favorite fics in the world, S.O.S. Chapter 5 : Broken Legs and Broken Wings

can I just say... I love birds. thank you.

I cannot imagine having nightmares like Curtain, okay? that just sounds absolutely awful - going from Nicky leaving, to his parents abandoning them (and the sadness from knowing that he doesn’t know), to his parents deaths, to SQ BEING THE ONE IN THE WHISPERER AND SHRIVELING LIKE THE PEOPLE IN THE MUMMY MOVIE GAHHH - still recovering from this one... that would be extremely traumatic.

okay but then lil SQ showing up at his bed and Curtain - “still half asleep, jumped and recoiled into his bed away from the voice” I imagine he just has this lil clown laugh that he does when he’s freaked out like that and it now lives in my head

CALLS HIM NICKY AHHHHH - I love how often this really comes up and all the dang symbolism in those moments - GOOD HEAVENS and then we get the innocent “I’m not Nicky. It’s me, SQ.” and his dream about the dark room sounds eerily identical to the Waiting Room in the book... I’m sure you did that on purpose but dang that would be legitimately terrifying

SQ and the sleepover request - you keep him safe buddy, you keep your dad safe - and then we get this gem after Curtain and his “nightmare about paperwork and stressful grown-up business” BRO ITS TRAUMA AND YOU DENYING IT DOES NOT HELP YOUR SONNNNN - but anyways, we get this line that I love “However, after his recent nightmare, there was nothing Curtain wanted more than to have his son close to him.” jeez tugging at my heartstrings like they’re electric guitar strings or something

we get stern dad Curtain but how they both just snuggle in and say the “goodnight I love you” GAHHHH MY HEART

I absolutely adore the idea of SQ going out with binoculars and his lil art supplies and going out into the wild and that Curtain encourages that (until he wants to go see his dang friends in the dang woods outside the dang fence ANYWAYS) - here’s one of my absolute favorite lines - “SQ’s favorite thing to paint were his friends, and the particular kind of friends he was interested in was a trait he inherited from his birth father.”

okay and I love the idea that someone came up with that SQ is psychic - he knows their names AND HE HAS A FAVORITE - I’m rooting for Oliver too, SQ

BUT OLIVER FALLS - WHAT NOOOOO OLIVERRRRR

oh my good gracious heavens - “10 feet is 10 feet... not 9.5, so I’m going to have to ask you to back away, unless of course you’d like an official demerit.” Jeffers what in the world bless your sweet soul WATCH FOR FREAKING SQ YOU SILLY SILLY MAN - NO THIS ISN’T A PAY RAISE FOR YOU

I absolutely loved the “Jeffers was still in the process of scaling the fence,” like, yeah that guy wouldn’t be the kind of kid that did that in his free time in the summers trying to get home from his best friend’s house at night before his mom got mad... anyways let’s continue - “when Milligan, who had been off in the distance when he had seen SQ fall, rushed towards the fence, and vaulted over it, in one heroic swoop, causing the fence to wobble and Jeffers to lose his balance.” hehe SUCKAHHH - the 6′5″ large man would show him up *coughcough somebody was definitely captain of the rowing team and somebody else definitely wasn’t coughcough* - but the hatred that Jeffers lowkey holds against him is something you can totally see later

Curtain being a good dad. yes.

Dr. Wetherall. Yes. yes yes. BRING BABY KATE YESSSSSS

okay so the Curtain being a good dad moment is slowly beginning to fade... lil SQ is afraid :( and the whole “Shepherd Quaid Curtain... please answer my question.” does not help

the SAFE line gahhhhhhh - coupled with “Curtain sighed and pressed his lips together. A bird. His son was talking about a bird.” okay Curtain but you’re the one who won’t let the poor boy make friends - I get the point about keeping him safe and not letting other people mistreat him for whatever reason, but this is your problem my dude

and SQ is so worried about him - “But he’s my friend... And he’s still down there and he’s probably so scared and cold. And what about his family? They’re probably worried about him. I have to go back and save him dad!” my good heavens we also just get the “Maybe it was the way that Pedalian had said those same words before he died: ‘I just wanted to save her.’” from Curtain and I just...GAH

oh jeez - Curtain, friend... again, I understand being triggered and reminded of Pedalian and also being protective of SQ, but I think he’s sometimes so blinded by the need to protect him that we have situations like this where he doesn’t see SQ, if that makes sense. It’s so evident not only in the way he speaks to SQ, but also when SQ winces and he thinks something is hurting him - duh Curtain, ITS YOU

we go between stern, mean dad Curtain and concerned, gentle, decent dad Curtain and you can totally see why SQ ends up the way he does later... ouch

I mean, going with this idea, we have “What on earth could have made SQ think his father was capable of something like that?” and “There was something about this reaction that disturbed Curtain even more.” - it makes me kinda sad for him, because he’s unintentionally pushing SQ away with how he’s parenting him - SQ can never really count on how his dad will react in any given situation because he’s so... all over the place.

“The person Ledroptha Curtain intended to make feel horrible was someone else entirely.” is one of the best lines that has ever been written - it’s then followed by a bunch of screaming from Curtain (who makes a lot of valid points) and then “SQ might have spent his life in a chair due to your incompetence!” our dear Jeffers - here’s one of the first examples of failing to secure the perimeter... to be followed by many many other instances...

also Jeffers not catching the sarcasm and thinking that he might actually lose his job to Wetherall - bless his soul - no Jeffers, the literal reason you’re there is because you’re unaware and ask no questions (the very reason that Wetherall ends up leaving... mentally...)

I really appreciated the line “If there was one thing Curtain needed to impress upon his employees, it was that keeping his family safe was their top priority.”

“...the next person responsible for SQ getting injured on their watch was going to experience the full wrath of Ledroptha Curtain.” heheheee YES

“...this image was always shattered when he stood next to Milligan, who towered above Jeffers, and now because Milligan had proven his physical superiority by stealing what was supposed to be Jeffers’ big moment (saving the boss’ son) and turning it into Jeffers biggest shame (failing to secure the perimeter).” AND THEN “Jeffers didn’t exactly have a plan for how he would accomplish this (he wasn’t the planning sort of man), but he knew that when the opportunity arose, he was going to seize the moment and prove himself. Somehow.” this man has impostor syndrome and I think it is the funniest thing - I get why he feels the way he does and it’s valid, but knowing that it’s Jeffers just makes it hysterical

okay but then Curtain has the moment of “...even though he hadn’t been yelling, he had raised his voice quite a bit. And SQ had always been sensitive to noise. Well, and of course Curtain had also stood up to his full adult height, which does look rather intimidating from a five-year-old’s perspective.” AND THEN THE LINE ABOUT OLIVERRRR - yes it’s a bird, but as a wise song from a movie once said, “Critters have feelings too” and Oliver is SQ’s friend

I love love LOVE “Curtain remembered the way that his son had looked at him when he said those words. Desperate, pleading with his father, staring at him with his adorably wide innocent brown eyes. Pedalian had had those eyes. Nicholas had them too.” ANNNDDD “One day, Ledroptha Curtain was going to learn to say no to those eyes. But today was not that day.” nobody can say no to those eyes. my freaking HEART GAH

Putting on his hiking boots and getting the flashlight - YES CURTAIN YESSSS

oh my good gracious heavens - Jeffers put up TrAfFiC cOnEs and CAUTION TAPE WHAT - he cracks me up and I think I have laughed just as hard every time I’ve read it

hehehe the “Instead, he scaled the fence (though with great difficulty) ad made his way down to the other side) we all know who the captain of the rowing team was and who wasn’t, don’t we

but then “Curtain sighed. His son was really going to resent him now.” with “He shined the flashlight in the direction of the noise and found Oliver, still alive, but struggling to move.” HE’S CALLING HIM OLIVERRR AHHHHH

both of lil Oliver’s wings are broken - like SQ ;(

I also love the glimpse we get into Nicholas and Nathaniel at the orphanage - SQ really is so much like Nicholas and I love that for just a moment, it seems like he draws on that experience and isn’t doing his usual “I hate Nicholas” routine and takes Oliver home

from the very beginning of this, I have loved seeing SQ and Kate’s friendship. He draws her pictures and I think that is the cutest thing - and I’m sure the Wetheralls have SQ’s art up in their home.

KATIE-CAT - AHHHHHHHH

You can see Curtain is trying - yeah, he isn’t the best parent, and he really should probably be a little more self-aware, but he’s trying

OLIVERRRRR - I love that Curtain tended to the lil bird and SQ’s excitement? My soul is filled.

“Thank you dad... I love you”

“I love you too, Shep.” GAH

okay but Garrison standing outside SQ’s room, Milligan finding her... my heart

I really... can I just say, I have really learned to appreciate Garrison by reading SOS. Watching her in the show, I don’t feel like I was really able to understand the depth of her character because we’re so invested in everyone else’s story (which is still magnificent and amazing). But reading SOS helped me really see her value and how relatable she is - it’s become my canon anyways haha - but overall, Garrison just needs a hug and good friends (like Milligan, but we all know what happens there... ouch)

she’s still so worried about SQ... but there’s that mental image of Pedalian in her machine and thinking SQ will ask her questions... mY hEaRt hEaVeN fOrBiD

And we get more of the relationship between SQ and Curtain - makes me so freaking sad but there’s some cute wholesome moments that I also love

“You don’t need to be afraid to talk to him. Pedalian’s death wasn’t your fault. You know that, right?” GOOD GRAVY my heartstrings are all tugged

Tommorrow, Tommorrow, Titration tomorrow - GAH (someone needs to write the lyrics of “Tomorrow” from Annie to that line from the show ahahaaaaa)

As sad and ironic as the line is about Garrison’s lab being underground and it not being good for someone who’s trying to recover (haha I can relate) BUT I thought there’s such an interesting point to the line about the Whispering Gallery being at the top of the tower when “...the machine would have worked just as well underground with the rest of the lab.” I mean, it just feels like another power play from Curtain of “I’m higher and better than you” so much that he literally designs the building that way. Maybe I’m reading into that too much, but I thought it was interesting.

haha - Garrison not understanding what the antennas are for is absolutely hilarious AND THEN Curtain totally is just like “let’s brainwash the world with all the good feelings” without saying it outright and I think that’s hysterical because it totally covers season one and season two

AND THE LINESSSSSSS - poison apples poison worms, friends, it’s all there and I love ittttt

for no reason at all, Curtain talking about his “student volunteers” reminds me of that post that’s been going around recently about crazy grandpa Curtain electrocuting children in caves and I cannot undo the comparison in my brain

he makes it so much about their business arrangement it hurts my heart for Garrison

Curtain suggesting a nap is me trying to convince myself to go to sleep every night heheheee

I also think it’s interesting that Curtain recognizes that SQ is a barrier between him and Garrison, and that it’s probably part of the reason that he keeps SQ so close all the time. I’m sure there’s other reasons too, but that just clicked for me when I read it

THIS LINE - “As much as he was not willing to part with his vision for the future, a future where he could have complete control, where he could keep his family safe, where he could have all the power and security he wanted, Ledroptha Curtain was also not willing to give up the only friends he had ever had. Not after what he had already lost.” all of it. is. just. AMAZING. we’ve really watched him go down so slowly it hurts watching him hurt and think that it has to come to this - also the fact that he’s emotionally preparing for his friend’s betrayal hits very close to home due to past experience

SQ and the bird in the cage being imprisoned together is so symbolically symmetric. I love it.

Ledroptha “Control is good because it protects my family” Curtain bless his soul

AGAIN WITH TITRATION - if I remember after I finish all these analysis posts, I’ll write the lyrics to that tune because it now lives in my head rent free along with all our Muppet MBS song adaptations hahaaaa

Katie-Cat. My heart.

Milligan takes the ferry - probably best he lived away from them as long as he did... but knowing how things happen makes that line hurt

Kate would be a fantastic lab manager though - and Milligan is just so proud of her (this should be part of the “Tomorrow” adaptation for sure)

also Milligan is literally just the best. The Wetheralls are the cutest and it’s just so sad that things happen the way they do - I understand why, but gosh dang - it almost hurt more the second time around

---------------

Another amazing chapter - I feel like this one was one of my favorites, just with all the different perspectives we get to see - and lil SQ and Kate, the ultimate friendship that we never got to see

I also just really love the title of the chapter - there’s a lot of symbolism not only because of SQ and Oliver, but it’s also legs being broken like progress having to be stopped for a little while when Milligan and Garrison left. Broken wings like broken trust, broken friendships, and Curtain’s grounding himself fully in his vision for control. I love it.

Inspiring work as usual, @nobody33333333 - thank you for writing this, it has healed my heart (and continues to heal my heart) of the Season 3 hole that was there.

Love you all 💛,

Talk to you soon,

- Gogh 🌻

#the mysterious benedict society #mbs #mysterious benedict society #ld curtain #mbs disney #sos #sos chapter 5

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terrainofheartfelt · 2 years

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What are your insights on Georgina's relationships with Serena and Dan?

ooooh interesting and frighteningly open-ended!

it's interesting because Georgina is such a different personality from them, yeah? And I think that's the crux of the draw for her: Serena and Dan both have this compulsion to always believe and hope for the best in people, even Georgina. Like, there's a reason she and Serena became friends in the first place, right? There's a wholesomeness to the both of them that Georgina finds compelling, and I think it's both because she knows she can corrupt it, but never so much that they'll shut her out forever.

and for Serena's and Dan's sides of it...we don't really see all of what Serena and Georgina did together, but we can guess, and I think for her she was almost - set free from the idea that she didn't have to be Good with Georgie, they could be silly and self-destructive and Serena could sort of...surrender to the pain she couldn't name, but it never would be as bad or as dark as whatever Georgina was carrying. Blair is the friend who's always trying to pull her up, to keep her grades good and her mom from finding out her indiscretions but Georgina didn't ask perfection of her, and for the broken teenage girl that Serena was before the show, that had to be kind of liberating.

For Dan its similar, I think, but a little less fraught, up until Milo I suppose. With Georgina he doesn't have to be the good student or the good brother or the good son or the good boyfriend, and he can sort of....surrender to his bitchy side? Because he is a Bitch (I love him so much), which is something he has in common with Georgina, they're equals in a way for that. and in s3 Georgina is the person that he can make bad decisions with and have uncomplicated kinky fun. the sub!dan agenda begins with georgina after all. Until it becomes complicated, because he hadn't bargained for Georgina's possessive/jealous streak.

and Serena and Dan both fall out with her because Georgina crosses a line that is so egregious and nearly breaks both of them. for Serena it's the Pete trauma, and for Dan, it's Milo. but what interesting is this: Serena cuts Georgie out and means it, wants nothing to do with her and takes pains to keep her out of her life when she comes back to nyc. And after s1, she keeps on keeping her distance, Georgina and Serena never interact in any meaningful capacity after that, and they never initiate contact, it's always Blair or Chuck or Dan that brings Georgina back around for whatever reason.

But after Milo, arguably the biggest heartbreak of Dan's life, he still interfaces with Georgina directly in s5 and, of course, has a close personal relationship with her in s6. Serena, the always gracious, always forgiving Serena couldn't open the door to Georgina again. but Dan could. Dan does. and I think it mostly has to do with the spot he's put in in s5, being so grievously betrayed by Blair and Serena (at the same time!), and effectively abandoned by everyone else in his support system (Alison, Jen, Vanessa, Rufus, Nate). Georgina has already done the worst thing she could ever do to him (take his child away from him), so in his hurt, he goes with the devil he knows, and steers into the skid, leaning into the aspects of his personality that being with Georgina brings out in him, without a check this time.

going through my meta tag for that previous ask, I found a post from Ivy that says it plays into "Dan's need to belong to someone" he needs to belong to someone, and if it's Georgina, then so be it. there's something to her possessiveness of him that - in spite of himself - he cannot walk away from. And in that sense, Serena shows more strength of character than he does, because it's a marker of her personality too, wanting to belong to someone, always trying to make a home in someone else. unlike Dan, Serena knew that the person she was with Georgina is a person she never wanted to go back to. and she decided that her sense of self wasn't worth sacrificing for a home (a lesson she learned from being with dan! he looks at me like I want to believe in myself and all that).

#asks #anon #gg meta #i've no idea how long this languished in my drafts forgive me #i think I started answering it on the train #and then I got to my stop and have to save #and then I never came back to it until now. whoops.#dangina #seregina #is that the tag?#serena x georgina #i can't help it there's something about dangina's codependency that's so sexy #there's an audrina fic about it that's delicious

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warmau · 3 years

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☆: bounty hunter! you x thief! minghao au tw: ment of violence/weapons | this was in my drafts so i decided to finish it

“there’s no way in the world any of you are going to catch him, but if you do -”

the head of the police, hong joshua, stands tall and straight behind the podium

the gold of his medals shines harshly under the white light of the town courthouse

and your mind wanders off as you think about the pretty penny you could get if you were to just happen upon stealing one of those medals....not that a bounty hunter should ever steal

“but if you do, the police will wipe your own felonious records clean and even offer a good amount of monetary compensation.”

that perks your interest, since you’re currently looking for some extra cash

plus being a bounty hunter isn’t a so called ‘clean’ job - you have stains on your record you’d like to see get erased.

and you know mr. hong doesn’t like you all that much so having him be the one clean up for you is sickly satisfying to some part of your psyche

you’ve been working in this shitty underground world for too long

someone’s voice comes from the back of the interrogation room and you don’t even have to look to know that it’s that newbie seokmin

all excited and bouncy and not-yet-dead-and-cold-inside like the rest of the people around you

“who is the criminal we’re chasing?”

the monitor on the rolled up caddy beside the policeman flickers on

“xu minghao. he’s a notorious thief in the city, responsible for the last string of high art robberies from the homes and personal collections of the elite.”

you snort, the ‘elite’, being rich makes you some kind of level above human now doesn’t it?

“his latest victims are the choi family, he stole not only paintings but some jewelry as well - possibly high end watches and the sort.”

“choi family?”

god this new kid knows nothing

“choi seungcheol’s family” you say with a yawn “you know, the choi seungcheol - the mayor.”

seokmin gasps and you finally look at him.

he’s got a build to him that probably helps with physical altercations but he gives off the vibe that he’d faint at the sight of blood

“exactly.”

joshua shoots a pointed look at you and you kind of dance around in the disgust

“which is why we are going out on a limb and asking for the bounty hunters to help. the choi family desperately wants these pieces returned to them.”

you look at minghao’s face on the screen, it’s obviously not a mugshot so you note that the police force has actually never caught him

it’s a kind of photo that looks like it has been pulled off a social media account

minghao is standing in some sort of white room, he’s tilting his head and looking at the camera - or maybe the person holding it - and one of his eyes has a piercing blue colored contact in it

his features are angular, sharp, and long - but they fit together to make an unusually handsome kind of face

you slide forward in your chair and take your own phone out to snap a picture of the monitor

“how much for him?”

another voice echoes somewhere from the corner

joshua’s straight-faced expression twitches like he’s trying to believe the number that comes out of his mouth.

“ten million”

you keep counting the zeros in your head as you push your keys into your motorcycle and adjust yourself on the seat

you could retire with that kind of money. you live a frugal existence as it is.

you know that minghao is probably also somewhere in the city, still plotting for his next job.

he’s been hitting rich people’s houses for two months straight and the choi’s are a victory, for sure, but they’re still not the biggest shark in the ocean.

the people who sponsor them, the people who made seungcheol mayor, minghao has to be going for them next

you make a list of the three family names that come to mind, luckily enough you also know someone who works in the business of ‘technology’ or so who can help you track down the lead forming in your head

you look one last time at the picture of minghao on your phone before you slip it into your jacket pocket and pull out of the parking lot

“how much?”

“stick-up-his-ass hong said ten million, the choi’s really want there watches and monet’s back.”

jihoon turns to you with a deadpan expression

“you know monet’s can go up to ten times that amount right?”

you shrug and shove a half eaten bar of candy in your mouth that you stole from a bowl by his computer

“i don’t know, i didn’t go to college for art history. anyway, can you help?”

“how much of your cut will i get.”

you lick your lips and think for a second

“if i get him alive i’ll cut you in thirty percent. if he’s dead, ten.”

jihoon taps his foot and adjusts the glasses on his nose, he told you once they’re for the blue light or whatever that come out of his six computers.

“deal.”

you come over and see him open up the page of one of the most expensive and professional art dealers in this city, jihoon mentions that this person is in charge of the buying accounts for all of the three families you mentioned

he also happens to manage the choi’s, so looking into him could lead to possible other leads for the three targets you have in mind

“if minghao is planning to rob them - he needs to know what pieces to take. he’s probably also tracking down what they’re currently thinking about buying.”

“yeah, and im gonna assume - you know, bounty hunters intuition or whatever, that he’s going to hit whichever family recently bought the most expensive piece.”

jihoon’s fingers type faster than your eyes can follow. he doesn’t even seem to move his face, just his pupils and then a bunch of screens are popping up everywhere

you had befriended him on an assignment to catch a hacker - not jihoon, although he’s actually got a price on his head too - but another hacker who was clambering up jihoon’s business

you watch as jihoon does his magic, and then in about ten or so minutes you have an answer

“one of the family’s just bought and received a vase from this guy, it won its auction at around twenty five million. it’s from the ming dyn-”

“which family?”

you don’t care if they got a vase, a sofa, a painting, or a gold and diamond encased piece of potato - something in your stomach told you that whoever just spent the most was on minghao’s radar and minghao was on yours

jihoon adjusts his glasses

“that would be ... oh, that would be the yoon family.”

you taste something iron on the tip of your tongue, yoon jeonghan was on the cover of last month’s vogue if you remember correctly

“got it. thanks.”

you shrug your jacket back on and jihoon spins around in his chair when you get to the door of his dark apartment

“remember, thirty if he’s alive!”

“and ten if he’s not!”

you don’t like the fact that this new kid, seokmin, is standing outside the giant gates of the yoon family mansion

he’s wearing a cut off white t-shirt and new balances for christs sake

“hey!” he looks like he’s seen the sun when he spots you sort of loitering nearby, you try to ignore him but he’s coming over

“hi.”

“staking out the yoon’s? my first impression was they’d be minghao’s next targets because they’re rich and like art too.”

you wonder how he knows that so you ask, half expecting he might actually tell you - which would be a stupid thing to do.

he does.

“oh! i mean their son is a designer, they must be the best people to steal from.”

that’s so fucking ridiculous but he’s actually right. going to tell jihoon im cutting his share in half since apparently his intel could have been free.

“uhuh. well good luck.”

the words are stale when you say them, but sparkling eyes seokmin takes them to heart with a gracious “you too!”

you actually didn’t come to stake them out - you came to see if minghao might be staking them out

no good thief actually just bursts into someone's home, they need to know every nook and cranny of a place if they want to get out clean

judging by minghao’s track record, you can tell he’s cautious and detailed

you circle the house at a safe distance and then head back home, you read a bunch of articles on minghao’s past crimes and eat the only thing you have in your fridge which is mint ice cream - it was left there by a late night hook up who’d doordashed 7/11 even when you told them not to

you do some other minor research on smaller bounties you could chase after minghao is caught, none are interesting or any where near the price of minghao’s

you lay down and the stray you recently started letting crawl through the fire escape makes a little fuzzy circle at the base of your feet

you look at your phone, look at the photo of minghao

wonder if he’s as detailed orientated in other things aside from stealing. looks like he’d know what to do with his hands.

you fall asleep with the phone on your chest.

the next day, you’re texting jihoon about the seokmin thing - he tells you to piss off and not even think about downing his cut or he’ll leak your social security on the internet

that’s so fucked up dude

you’re a shit bounty hunter and im a hermit hacker we aren’t good people anyway

fine, are the yoon’s buying any other vases or whatever

actually, they won an auction a month ago for some ceramics. heard they’re coming tomorrow.

oh, might be a good time to steal that vase and some extra trinkets too for our thief

look how ugly these things are tho

jihoon sends you a photo pulled from the auctioning website, they are ugly, but they’re expensive

you rub your temple and decide that’s enough for today, you don’t see seokmin around either

seungcheol’s generic smiling im-a-good-mayor-and-i-kiss-babies face is grainy on your tv

you eat the takeout you picked up on the way back and are only mildly surprised when you notice someone familiar in the crowd

this is old footage, from a rally he did before the crime

your eyes pan to the corner and pull out one person from the sea of faces, everyone looks so excited to see seungcheol, minghao stands staunch and unwavering in the moving bodies

he’s not grinning - he’s kind of half smirking from what you can tell

he really does his research, i kind of like him

you put the chopsticks into your mouth, yeah. i think he’s going to be a fun one to catch.

goddamn seokmin is here again - on the night the drop shipment of the ceramics is scheduled - you tell yourself you were a clown for believing all that ‘i just thought they’d be the right family!’ bullshit he was telling you about

he probably has an informant of his own, definitely not jihoon though. seokmin is the type jihoon would rather drive a usb through his head than ever cooperate with

you avoid him the second you see his strong shilloute and make your way to the otherside of the house, right on the outskirts of the back garden

there’s one person in it - none of the immediate yoon family you can recognize, probably just a worker

you know there’s three entrances from here - the garden doors, the side opening that leads to an underground washing room, and there’s also a way to get into the back of the kitchen

you are betting that either one of them might be a good choice for minghao, but you put your bet on the washing room - it has stairs that lead up into a spare bedroom which is adjacent to a gallery type room inside of the huge mansion

it’s where the family will probably put the items, rich people love to be all like “look at my room of expensive things you don’t get to touch”

you stick your tongue out to yourself, morally you don’t care about thievery. especially when it’s stolen art stolen from people who just want it to feel superior to others

but minghao is worth ten million, that’s why im taking the higher ground on this ‘crime’

bounty hunters are allowed to carry guns, but you’ve never liked them - you like to use mace instead

that being said, you’ve brought your gun along - unloaded - just to use a scare tactic if push comes to shove. it’s heavy and it reminds you constantly of the job you came to do.

no getting distracted by newbie muscle heads or how hot you’re coming to think minghao is

you hear something - eyes darting to behind one of the columns of a large gazebo in the garden

you swear you see something slink across as the only person in the garden gets up to head back inside

keeping your movements and noise to a minimum, you position your body for a better view and after what seems like two heartbeats you see him dart from the enclosure and toward the mansion

you don’t follow immediately, the only way you’re going to catch someone who is so elusive is if you one up him

you have the element of surprise, but not really, he might be expecting personal guards of the yoon household or the police

not a rogue bounty hunter with a can of mace

but he’s still expecting - and someone whose entire job is to be like a shadow - you’ve got to be careful

you wait the amount of time you deem appropriate and then do the same, you realize when you slip through the backdoor of the washroom that now you’re also committing a crime of breaking and entering

you’re sure the yoon’s won’t mind though - you are about to make sure their ceramics and vases don’t get stolen

plus, you checked up on all of them, the main family shouldn’t be home. the only people on premises are some cleaners and the gardener. you’re sure minghao knows that too.

you map out the house in your mind from what you’ve learned in the past couple of days and find the gallery with ease

you can see the large double doors are open just enough for a person to slip through

so he’s already in ther-

“HEY YOU! YOU BETTER STOP!”

your eyes widen and you push inside to see what’s going on

seokmin, flashing something in his right hand and holding a light in the other is pointing at the long, lean figure of minghao

he’s standing there in the circle of light holding the vase you and jihoon had been looking at before

his eyes are unimpressed when they settle on seokmin

“ok, ive stopped - now what are you going to do?”

“im going to arrest you and bring you to the poli-”

the vase that’s held professionally between both his arms then gets dropped and crashes to the floor

the crescendo of noise startles seokmin because it’s the one thing all these new kids who want to try this kind of work get wrong

the thief is never going to drop the valuable goods - except they are, getting caught is worse then anything else.

there will always be shit to steal - except you know if you’re in jail.

minghao beelines for the doors and you’re there, big grin and mace in hands

“hi!”

his eyes widden and you tackle him with ease, one hand bent behind his back as you make sure to keep your weight off him

“ugh, that big idiot had a partner?”

“he’s not my partner, by the way that vase is worth more than what im getting for your head.”

minghao shifts his cheek against the hard floor of the gallery and he’s smiling back up at you

“how much for me?”

“choi’s but ten million.”

he makes a pfft sound as he releases air from between his lips

“cheap as fuck.”

seokmin tries to bound over to help once he comes to, but you bite at him to back off. this is your win.

he says he can drive you and minghao to the station, but you tell him again that you’ve got this on your own

you kind of feel bad about how flustered he is and you tell him he can still brag about how you two were the only people with sense to look at the yoon’s

for some reason, that actually brightens him up. he leaves to go downstairs and you don’t know if he sticks around or goes off on another job.

you get the handcuffs on minghao’s wrists before the workers, who hear the noise come running up in terror

you flash your bounty id and they scramble to get a hold of the local police office

minghao sits up against the wall and you sit directly in front of him - you can see him better with the lights on

his dark hair is long in the back and messy, his eyes are brown and long and twinkle when you look into them

the bottom corners are highlighted by what you can’t tell if is sweat or glitter

“you’re different”

he starts and you put up a finger

“im not different, im just experienced.”

“you like money more than you like your morals.”

you put the finger down and gleam at him

“bingo”

“so why are you sitting here waiting to hand me over for some chump change like ten million dollars when you and i are inches away from a collection that’s worth close to a hundred million?”

you touch the holster on your hip and tilt your head

“we - even the two of us - wouldn’t be able to steal everything in there. we’d need a whole team and-”

you start as minghao open’s his mouth to counter. all his teeth are white and straight.

“and if we could, you’d backstab me and take it all and run because you just said it yourself. money over morals.”

“ive got morals when im dealing with the right people.”

the snort you let out is louder than you expect and it makes minghao cock an eyebrow

“don’t care, you’re a professional liar. plus hong said he’d clear our records and get us that money.”

“joshua hong works for choi seungcheol who is a bigger liar than i am and you know it.”

there’s real spite in the way he says it - you assume he’s probably had interactions with both. or he’s just grown up in this city like you have, all the trouble politics can cause - all the stupid, underhanded shit that goes on

he leans a little forward

“plus, you’re hot. usually anyone who manages to catch me is very gruff and very mean.”

“i am gruff and mean, don’t test me.”

you banter but then look around and the gardener who was supposed to stay up here with you and minghao has turned his attention elsewhere - normal people don’t like facing criminals and well...whatever category bounty hunters are in.

“what’s the most expensive thing in that room.”

you ask under your breath suddenly, the police won’t be here for another five minutes at least.

you text jihoon to tap into their comms and let you know the exact moment they’re at the door.

minghao shines that grin, slender fingers lift up and toward the door

“i broke it, but that place is jammed of other million dollar treasures. i saw an original signac that could score us close to 17 million.”

“a signac? who is that?”

minghao laughs with his hands still behind him

“so you’re hot but not into art, i can still work with that. he’s an artist, paul signac. the yoon’s own ‘la corne d'or.’”

you shrug your shoulders again and pretend you don’t hear the first part but mutter that art doesn’t make sense to you and minghao lets out another quieter laugh

“it’s a painting of boats but it looks psychedelic almost, super colorful. thirty six or so inches across.”

you think to yourself - one painting and it’s 17 million, what if you get another painting with it

“ok...anything else in there catch your eye?”

minghao wiggles a little

“lots, i know art like people know starbucks orders. very well.”

your phone pings and it’s jihoon’s warning. the police are going to be coming upstairs to take minghao off your hands in the next sixty to ninety seconds.

“i can’t trust you.”

he thins his lips and then taps your foot with his own, does a weird jostle of his body and then to your shock breaks out of his handcuffs with ease

he rubs his wrists as you think you hear some noise downstairs and the gardener jumps out of his seat to go greet the police without noticing the thing that just happened only a feet away from him

“i’ve had a bobby pin this whole time, i could have run away five whole minutes ago instead of giving you a history lesson on boat paintings worth more money than you’ve ever dreamt of.”

you don’t miss a beat

“let’s get the fucking boats then.”

you get up and minghao takes a hold of your hand in a way you haven’t experienced since maybe middle school

like when a beloved childhood friend would take you and lead you toward the playground, giggle about school or your parents, pull you in to a fun moment under the basking sun

you and him stand, hand in hand, in front of the painting he mentioned

it’s pretty, it almost looks like it was drawn by crayons, you wonder why it’s so expensive

“let’s take it and the two sketches over there, one’s a lady with a piano the other is a couple under an umbrella

“are they-”

“at least two million each. plus - we can comeback for the ceramics later.”

you don’t know why it makes you feel warm - but it does and you take the two framed sketches off the wall

the painting is large, but minghao has done this enough times before that he knows how to handle it - you two are out the hall and down the stairs by the time you hear the police shuffling up them

took their time thinking he’d just be sitting up there wrapped up like a present huh?

you think to yourself, minghao is quick on his feet and leads you in the direction of a inconspicuous looking tiny car that could seat you, him and maybe that stray that hangs around your apartment

he opens the back and it is a perfect size for the painting

“did you come here on your bike?”

you realize the whole look of you must give away the fact that you ride one

“never, i dont bring it on jobs because people know what it looks like.”

he tips his fingers toward you in acknowledgement

“good because this car isn’t mine either, so add auto theft to the list of crimes you’re committing with me on this first date.”

you bite the inside of your cheek, can’t tell if he’s joking or not

he hits the gas before there’s any movement on the street where it’s parked - the yoon mansion fades into the distance as he rushes into the evening traffic

“is this the part where you kick me to the curb?”

you ask

minghao takes one hand off the wheel and puts it on your thigh

“this is the part where you tell me where you live so we can go get your things and ride off into the sunset, bonnie.”

you laugh

“so you’re clyde?”

he looks at you at a red light - looks at your lips and then your eyes

“do you want me to be?”

you can decide the answer to that yourself

*if you’re interested here is la corne d’or on the sothebys website.

#listen idk what this is really but im worldbuilding a lot arent i #seventeen scenarios #seventeen au #seventeen imagines #minghao au #minghao scenarios #minghao imagines #the8 au #the8 scenarios #the8 imagines #the8 #minghao #seventeen #minghao x reader #the8 x reader #violence/ weapons/

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obeymefictionwriting · 3 years

Text

Brothers React to MC Dancing With Another Demon

Devildom parties are a big deal and Lord Diavolo is always up for a celebration of some kind. This time, he invited really many demons and some of them are quite interested in getting to know you. One of these demons actually invited you for a dance while you were standing near the table with drinks and he seemed quite nice so why not? Besides, with the brothers around, you don’t have to worry he’ll eat you... but you better worry about their reaction!

Lucifer

HOW. DARE. HE

He left you for a minute only to get some refreshments and here you are, dancing with some low-class demon.

He is slowly filled with rage because he sees you smiling and he wants your smile to be addressed to him only (because he is the number one, obviously).

He also notices that this demon lacks grace.

Makes a mental note to show you how REAL demons dance.

Nonchalantly approaches you and simply takes you away from your partner.

One stare is enough to make the other demon go silent.

Don’t you ever dare pay your attention to anyone else when Lucifer is around. Understood?

Holds you tightly and makes you lose your breath with his calibrated and gracious moves.

Mammon

Was declining the dances at first because he is not very good at it.

Just wanted to look around the room and quickly get back to you when he suddenly notices... YOU AND ANOTHER DEMON?! DANCING?!

Forgets about his earlier words. Now he WANTS TO DANCE.

In fact, he wants to put this demon in place and show him that nobody can touch his baby except for him.

He simply makes his way through the crowd and pulls you from the demon.

When the demon tries objecting, Mammon simply grasps his throat and gives him a long hard stare.

Nobody would want to mess with the second-born brother when it comes to HIS possesions.

(Lucifer secretly approves, observing from the distance)

As soon as the demon is gone, Mammon immediately turns into his usual happy-self and kisses you (everyone must see that!).

“Now let’s finally have some fun, shall we?”

Leviathan

Had no idea how he ended up at this party.

Wanted to leave but then saw you dancing with the other guy and something... just didn’t feel right.

His envy grows slowly but steadly and it’s about to become really scary.

On one hand, he is super pissed, but on the other, he simply has no idea what to do.

Oh no, you are smiling back at this demon. Oh no.

Strategy is his srong point.

Waits patiently till you and your partner approach a large fountain in the middle of the room.

For SOME REASON, a water tentacle drags your partner right in the water. Weird, huh? How could this possibly happen?

Approaches you with drinks and food and suggests you take a rest from “this fool” and spend some time with him instead.

Satan

He just wanted to say hi to an old friend and immediately get back to you but you are... gone?

Ah, he sees it now. Somebody took a chance.

He returns to the conversation, smiling wonderfully.

He already came up with 73 ideas on how to kill this demon (or at least, make him regret his existence).

Waits till the dance is over and graciously pulls you to his side.

Thanks the demon for keeping you entertained while your PARTNER (he stresses this word) was busy.

Makes sure to remember how the demon looks and smells. It will be easy to hunt him down.

Swirls you in a dance and asks how did you like THE OTHER DEMON.

Uh oh, trouble is coming.

You are trying to guess what’s behind his smile but give up and enjoy the dance. Maybe you will avoid the punishment?

He suddently lowers his head and whispers in your ear “I’ll think of a punishment later”.

Nope, you won’t avoid it.

Asmodeus

He can’t help being so desired so obviously he had to pay attention to his fans.

Ah, he totally understands that you, being so gorgeous, may have other admirers.

He finds it cute.

He knows no one can take his place so he just observes, smiling a bit.

The attempts of this demon to charm you entertain him. They are really low-key.

He is curious about what this demon would do, considering this demon had no idea you are with Asmo.

Once the dance is over, he is also curious whether you’d agree for another one or not.

As you helplessly look at the crowd, he appears by your side within mere seconds.

“That was cute, thanks. You can go now, shoo.”

Asks how did you like the dance and laughs when you admit it was weird.

“No harm in trying others as long as you remember who is your number one.”

Beelzebub

Uh, dancing is weird.

And why dance when there is so much food on the table?

Suddenly feels uncomfortable. Understands it’s because you are not around.

Searches for you and sees you... dancing?

Feels weird again. It’s not hunger so gets confused.

Understands that he also wants to hold you like that.

Drags Asmo to the side and asks him to quickly show some basic moves.

“Awwww you are so sweet, Beel!”

Once your dance is over, approaches you, scaring the demon off, and asks if you’d like to dance.

You are pleasantly surprised but gladly agree.

During the dance, he is a bit scared to hold you because you look so delicate and fragile and he is just so strong!

Suddenly picks you up in the middle of the dance and melts inside when you laugh.

After the dance, thinks that maybe dancing is a bit like sport so he should do it more often.

Belphegor

He was napping on the sofa when he saw you in the middle of the room with... someone else?

Is immediately alerted. Why would you dance with someone else? Couldn’t you at least choose one of his brothers?

This demon really looks unreliable. And weak. And disgusting.

Can he even hold you properly?

Sighs heavily. As much as he wants to sleep, he needs to rescue you from this horrible activity.

Simply comes up to you and drags you away. Pays zero attention to the demon trying to object.

Also remembers the demon. He’ll talk to him later.

At first, he wants to drag you to the sofa and nap together. But then he sees you really wanted to dance.

So he sighs and suddenly leads with in a swift and confident manner.

“I have many talents if I feel like showing them”, he whispers in your ear, delighted with seeing you happy.

#obey me shall we date #obey me! shall we date?#obey me #funny obey me #lucifer obey me #lucifer x reader #mammon obey me #mammon x reader #leviathan obey me #leviathan x reader #satan obey me #satan x reader #shall we date asmodeus #asmodeus x reader #beelzebub imagines #beelzebub x reader #om! belphegor #belphegor x reader

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ranhaitanisgf · 3 years

Text

;; 𝖘𝖈𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖒𝖔𝖚𝖈𝖍𝖊

otherwise read as: scaramouche is stupidly soft for you

❧ masterlist

As it would seem, being acquainted with Harbingers from the Fatui always brought about interesting events, and more times than naught, these events would come about to ruin whatever plans you had for the rest of the day, not that you exactly minded most of the time.

"What a bold subordinate you are, I wonder what exactly your intentions are..." You pondered thoughtfully.

"Just shut up and be quiet, your constant mumbling is givin' me a damn headache!" Typical Fatui Skirmishers, and especially typical of those gifted Cryo suits by the Tsaritsa. They all looked and acted exactly the same; you found it quite interesting how they seemed all be so similar.

"Oh~? And eating an entire Sweet Madame in two bites doesn't give a headache or at least a stomachache?" You answered back. (If you guys don't know one of the Cryo skirmishers idle's is literally eating like an entire sweet madame or something like pls sir what are you doing-)

He grumbled something under his breath and tightened the rope around your arms and neck, trying to constrict your breath.

"Wow, kinky~ I didn't know the Fatui were like- oh fuck..." A sharp pain to the side of your head promptly shut you up, and you clenched your eye as blood started to drip down from where the Skirmisher had hit you with his heavy armor.

"God, your mouth almost makes this not worth it, your stupid friend better show up so I can become a Harbinger already!" You rolled your eyes at his words, instead quite pissed off now that you had a pounding headache.

"And your stupidity almost makes up for the headache you've given me. You're not the sharpest tool in the shed, are you?" Before he could respond, you froze the rope on your hands and easily broke it off, along with the rope around your neck. In a flash, the Skirmisher was pinned on the ground, your foot on his neck.

"One would think that you would research somebody and study them before kidnapping them, wouldn't you think? Research is one of the most important things when studying a target, but you wouldn't know anything about that." The terrified look on his face made you think twice; while you did enjoy researching and studying people, this man would serve no use to you, although it would be a little enjoyable to scare him.

A deadly aura suddenly surrounded you, malice in your eyes as you stared at him.

"̸̡̹̻͉͕̈́͂̆ͅĮ̷̠̺̥̠͎̦̭̿̉́̄l̴͓̮̲͈͔̻̜͉̙̠̋͘͠l̶̛͍͙̍͗̍̿̏̒͋̑̕ ̴̈́̋̓̅̋͊l̶̥̳͓͔̣̪͆͆͌̚ë̷͒̽̍̍̃͝t̶͈͇̫̘̮̀̽̎ ̷̙̺̺͎̮̳͉̅̅ͅy̶̢̧̹͓̺̬̹͔̤̽̉̋̊͗ͅo̷̧̭̞͑̈́u̴͈̜̻̯̦̓͆̈͗̉̏̈́̂̊̚ ̵̝̟͕̬̟̍̎̚ǵ̶̫͚̮̣̭̥̣̯̎͆̎̀ô̵͓͎̓͊̈́̈́͗̽͘͝ ̶̛͚̼̤̲̙̑͑̔̀͑t̵̙̦̻̔̽ḩ̸̪̟̽̑̋͝i̵͖̗̠̭̓̃̃̇̐s̷̨̮̞͓͕̦̭͓̘̓̏̉͑̈́̚ ̵̧̛̤̮̭̫͖̹͖̖̗̃̓̓̉̅̏̌̕͝ẗ̷̡͈̜̯̗͙̘͕̐̈́͗̑̔̀̾̀̄ͅḯ̵̱̝̰̽ͅm̷̢̮͉͔̞͖͕̦̅́̃͐͘ẽ̴̼̣̄̓̔͒͑̾͜,̴͈̲͎͍̹̏̇̀̀̔͌̍́͑͝ ̶̨̛͔̞̳̞̝̞̈́͗́͗̄ͅb̷̼̤͍̖͎̗̭̎́û̴̦͚̹̞͎̜̰̿̅͌t̸̼̪̍̀͆͌̿̏̇̀̚ ̶̡̨͚͙̞͓̯̞̰̌̾̏́͐͑̓͛̄̕n̴̡͖͎̐̈́e̸̖̹̯͂x̴͈̀̄̊̓̽̉̆̚͘t̶̝̺̠̺̲̗̽̃͂̅̉͑̆͘ ̶̥̮̝̿͘͜ͅt̷̤̯͎͚̍i̵̩̬͇̱͓̫̇̽̃́͐͂͊́͜͜͝ͅm̷̩͕̦͒ę̸̧̡̺̤̥̯̗͈͌͆͝ ̷̧̼̜͈̭̂̏̋ý̷̨͎̪͙͚̫̘̳̳͌̃͌̾͝ͅȏ̴̫̟͍́͐̉͘͝u̴̡͔̳̿͋ͅ ̵͔̥̮̤͗̾ͅm̵̪̟̳̞̯̭͖̿͗̀́ę̷̢̛͇̫͈̦́̇̌̕s̷̨̬̘͈͓͓̫̺͔̀͗̽̍̕s̷͓̤̦̮̗͊̚ ̷̢̡͇͓̙̞̪̟͗̌̃̌̍̅̓̐͑͠w̶̡͈͚̺̩̘̬̲̼̙̐͛͋̚i̷̫͐̉͋̿̐̈͒͐̉̚ẗ̴͓͛̔̓̌̽̀̓͆͝h̸̢̡͍̝͈͉̝͂̈́̍ ̵̰̲̰̞͕͚̿̊͌͗͐͑̿̓̕̚m̸̛̺͔͕̣̰͐̈́̄̑̚ͅë̴͇̀̍͝͝͠ ̶̺͚̹̳̈̃̑̑͑͐́̆͘ͅi̸̫̤̤͓͖̹͐̇̿̾̆̅͛̔̕͝ͅš̷̺̠̟̭̹͋̚ ̵̣̊̀͐͊t̷̛̬͚͊̿͆́̑͆̒̚h̷͍͎̜̖̗̫̉̓̈́̈͐͊̈̔͘ͅe̸̠̔͆̇͌̐̾̿͊̓͝ ̶̛̪̣̠̬̹͈̉͌̆͝͝ͅl̸̖͉̩͉̤̰̞̗̋̀̏̊̑̄a̴̛͍̫̎͂̊̈́̒͗̇͠s̵̛̛̜͉̰̼̼̦̙̈́̑̍͌͐͝ͅţ̸͙̩́̍̑̾̍͋͊͘͝ ̶̡͕̯̙̬͗̈͛̔̕͝t̴̬͍͚̦͍͈͇͇̂̆̓̕i̸͍̥̫̝͔̘̅̿̉͜m̴̥͕̗̗̼͔͇̒́͒̃ĕ̷̘͛̚͝.̶̢̖̩͚͍̈́̆̔̍̾̕͝ ̵͙͓̣̝̔̌̏͘̕L̴̡̛̹̼̜̰̝͚̳͛̿͊̆̈̈́͜ë̶̪̋̉́̋̓̄̆͜͝a̵̟̙̎́̍̃̓̋͐̃̈́͠v̸̡̬̻̪̺͂̄̊̏͛͒̕͝͝ę̶̟̈́̽̃̈́̈́̂̾̄͝.̶̧̧̜̦̻͖̯̫̈́̿̐͒͊̇̐͋͗͜"̴̺̳͓̱̞̅̔͒͆̀̐̃

("I'll let you go this time, but next time you mess with me is the last time. Leave.")

A strangled scream left the man's throat as you lifted your foot off of him. He immediately started running as fast he could, and you watched until he had run off into the distance.

Sighing, you wiped off some of the blood on your head with your sleeve, wincing from the pounding that was a lot more prominent now.

"Goodness gracious, I'm so fuckin tired...haven't slept in six goddamn days, 'Can you do my commission for me?' 'Can you do this for me?' Holy fuck..." You walked over to a nearby tree and slumped against it, fatigue taking over your body. The sky was a nice blue, so at least there wasn't going to rain anytime soon.

"Blegh...still have to go meet up with Childe...go all the way to Liyue..."

"Didn't think I would find you in the middle of this dump of a camp."

"Huh? Oh..." As you looked up, you saw Scaramouche looking around the camp with a disgusted look on his face, before rolling his eyes and looking back at you.

"Is that really all you have to say to me?"

"Yes."

"..."

"Wait, why are you here? Thought you were supposed to be doing the fandango somewhe-"

"Do not finish that sentence." You looked up at Scaramouche, who had an extremely irritated face.

"Meh, you deserve it. After all, it was one of your subordinates who slowed down my day." Scaramouche scoffed at you, taking another glance at the now-abandoned Fatui camp.

You closed your eyes, determined to get some sleep before your meetup with Childe.

"What happened here? I thought my subordinates were cleaner than this,"

"Say that to your Cryo guys who eat an entire Sweet Madame in one bite, and also like to randomly knock out people when they're doing important things." You huffed, getting up and stretching your arms over your head, wincing again from the pounding in your head.

"Anyways, I better get going now, I have to go all the way to Liyue and meet up with Childe and whatnot, and also-"

"What happened to your head?" You glanced at Scaramouche, whose eyebrows were furrowed as he locked his eyes onto the slight bleeding on your temple.

"Huh? Oh, just a thing that happened when I was here, no biggie." Scaramouche didn't say anything in return, but instead walked over and turned your head to the side so he could get a better look. Your heart skipped a beat as you felt his fingers on your chin; it felt like electro was triggered when his skin touched yours.

"Er, Scara-"

"Shut up." His hand gently moved your hair, trying to get a better look at the wound.

"Seriously, I need to-"

"Didn't I say to shut up?" You bit your lip, nervous about his next moves, yet also slightly excited. After a moment of looking at the wound, he took a small square of gauze and taped it to your temple.

The alcohol burned, making you wince a bit, but what was more interesting was Scaramouche's sudden behavior, but you were too tired to look into it further.

The feeling of his fingers slightly in your hair caused you to close your eyes for a brief moment from your fatigue, though you quickly opened them once you realized what you were doing.

"Are you tired?" You moved your head back to look at him, not realizing he was so close; close enough in fact that you were just under his hat, the brim bumping the crown of your head. His purple eyes pierced yours, telling you to answer the question. A slight flush filled your cheeks, but he didn't seem to be moving anytime soon.

"I guess so, I've been really busy for the past week, but I still need to get to Liyue by tonight because I'm meeting up with Childe and Zhongli for dinner to discuss some stuff about the Rite of Parting and the Qixing, and apart of the whole Qixing talk I bet the adepti will be brought up, as well as some research about starconches and cor lapis, oh and also- ah, nevermind, I'm rambling." You awkwardly smiled at him as he stared at you, his eyebrows slightly furrowed.

"You really are an idiot. I can tell you haven't slept for a couple of days, have you been doing other people's commissions, or perhaps it's more research? You're too nice sometimes." He stepped back, his hand pressing to his forehead in a frustrated manner before looking back at you with a slightly annoyed look on his face.

"You even let that scum go, even though he betrayed direct orders from me. Archons...you're so dumb," He sighed, looking at you with a softer look.

"Okay cool, is that all? I kind of need to leave now." You stared blankly at him, struggling to keep your eyes open, and barely managing to keep them half-open, although your other struggle was trying to get away so you could relax and not have your heart beating so quickly.

"(Y/N), you're so fatigued you can't even keep your eyes open, I can see it from here. Just- ugh, just stop doing so many things for other people at the cost of your own health."

"Mhm..." You leaned back against the tree, your eyes closed as you tried to listen to the rest of his words.

He suddenly stopped talking, which made you curious, but not curious enough to open your eyes; the relief from closing them felt amazing.

Yet all of a sudden, you felt a presence in front of you, and a hand behind your head, which suddenly pushed your head forward onto something warm.

"You're such an idiot." You felt a bright blush fill your cheeks, and your heart started beating extremely fast, though when you listened closely, you could hear another heart beating just as fast. His chin rested on the top of your head, holding you close to him as his other arm slid around your waist.

"Stop calling me an idiot."

"Whatever, just...sleep. You don't have to go and meet with Childe." You raised your head slightly to look at him, but he pushed your head back down into his chest, (possibly because he didn't want you to see him blushing 0///0)

"Why not?"

"I told him you couldn't make it,"

"Why?"

"It doesn't matter why,"

"Yes, it does-"

"Stop asking questions, I'm taking you back,"

"Back where?"

"Goth Grand Hotel,"

"Mm..." After a moment or two, Scaramouche pulled away, and you huffed from the sunlight that was now in your eyes.

"Scaramouche..." Before you knew it, his hands slid under your legs and under your back, and he was carrying you.

"Huh-!?"

"Shut up! Just sleep!" He scoffed, turning his head to the side. An idea popped into your head, and before you could really think it over...

"Scaramouche,"

"What." He slightly turned his head to look at you, a furious blush all over his face.

Your hand went behind his neck, just under where his hat started to cover the back of his head and pushed him towards you, but stopped right before your lips touched.

"Your turn~" You sleepily said, a lazy smile on your face. Without hesitating, Scaramouche pushed his lips onto yours, locking your lips in a firm kiss.

The electro between your lips was dazzling, and your heart was on overdrive at this point, although it sadly ended after a few moments when you pulled away.

You immediately passed out, your fatigue winning you over.

"What an idiot."

#scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #readerinsert #reader #genshinimpactxreader #reader insert #scaramouchexreader #;; hana writes genshin

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renegadewangs · 3 years

Text

Van Zieks - the Examination, part 9

Warnings: SPOILERS for The Great Ace Attorney: Chronicles. Additional warning for racist sentiments uttered by fictional characters (and screencaps to show these sentiments).

Disclaimer: (see Part 1 for the more detailed disclaimer.) - These posts are not meant to be taken as fact. Everything I’m outlining stems from my own views and experiences. If you believe that I’ve missed or misinterpreted something, please let me know so I can edit the post accordingly. -The purpose of these posts is an analysis, nothing more. Please do not come into these posts expecting me to either defend Barok van Zieks from haters, nor expecting me to encourage the hatred. - I’m using the Western release of The Great Ace Attorney Chronicles for these posts, but may refer to the original Japanese dialogue of Dai Gyakuten Saiban if needed to compare what’s said. This also means I’m using the localized names and localized romanization of the names to stay consistent. -It doesn’t matter one bit to me whether you like Barok van Zieks or dislike him. However, I will ask that everyone who comments refrains from attacking real, actual people.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

How the turnabouts have turned! It's time for Twisted Karma and His Last Bow!

Episode 2-4: Twisted Karma and His Last Bow

With Van Zieks's tragic backstory (…) exposed, it's time to head on into waters we've charted before, waaay back in the very first Ace Attorney game: The Prosecutor becomes the Defendant. It all starts off with some shenanigans which appear to have very little to do with Van Zieks (the arrival of Mikotoba and Jigoku, the Red-headed League, a missing prison warder, etc.).. Ryu does still run into Van Zieks very briefly in Stronghart's office, with Susato noting that there appears to be an awful lot of tension in the air. I expect Van Zieks is questioning that decision to leave Genshin Asogi's son in his care, but even so, he's very civil towards Stronghart. Susato also notes that Van Zieks gives Ryu a cold stare as he leaves, with Ryu wondering what he's done to earn that. This may also be a result of him being besties with Kazuma, since Van Zieks had already buried the hatchet towards Ryu for the most part. When Ryu asks about the decision to leave Kazuma in Van Zieks's care, Stronghart explains it was to best keep an eye on this 'mysterious amnesiac with no identifying papers'. Well OK then. Stronghart also explains he made Kazuma wear a mask because he didn't want to “burden Van Zieks with tiresome explanations about why he had an Eastern appearance.” … I would assume the very simple explanation is that it's because he's of Eastern descent, Stronghart. Regardless, the Lord Chief Justice has high hopes for Kazuma's future and isn't at all bothered by the fact that the guy has gone missing for a little bit.

Things take a turn later when Gina Lestrade comes barging into 221B with some pretty shocking news. Inspector Gregson was murdered. Yes, THAT Inspector Gregson. The suspect has already been arrested:

It's true that to the average civilian like Gina, Van Zieks's name is pretty much synonymous to the Reaper (of the Old Bailey). Even so, to have her outright calling him by that title adds a sort of emotional distance that's really striking. Gina explains they caught him at the scene and there were several witnesses, but Ryu thinks to himself that there's no way Van Zieks would have taken Gregson's life. So naturally, we owe it to our good pal Gregson (who actually was just coming around and being nicer to Ryu) to find the truth. Time to go have a talk with Van Zieks in prison!

… Okay that's funny. Don't worry, Barok, one day we'll all look back on this and laugh. Anyway, Van Zieks says he's in the last place on earth he'd want to be, with the last person on earth he'd want to see. And this line can easily be misinterpreted as Van Zieks saying he hates Ryu more than anyone else in the world, but what he's actually saying is that Ryu is the last person he wishes would see him in this troublesome situation. Ryu says he couldn't very well not come, but Van Zieks tells him to go home since it has nothing to do with him. Susato interjects, pointing out that Gregson has helped them out on numerous occasions and so, they're indebted to him. She pleads for Van Zieks's help with the investigation and he's silent for a moment, only to say: “There's really nothing I can tell you.” Which I suppose means he doesn't think he has anything helpful to say. Ryu asks about what Van Zieks was reading when they came in and assumes it to be a case report. Van Zieks says the Yard wouldn't share case details with a suspect (keep that one in mind) and explains it's a letter from Albert. Dear Professor Harebrayne has arrived in Germany safely! Ryu notes that Van Zieks usually never minces his words, but they seem to have less bite than usual now. No wonder, really, since he's in prison for the murder of an old friend. Van Zieks asks how much they already know about the case, so the two of them go through the facts and Van Zieks says they're well-informed. He's got nothing to add, because... Well.

Oh, this is going to be another one of those cases, huh. Susato asks what Van Zieks was doing at the crime scene in the first place, but Van Zieks points out he doesn't need to answer that, as they aren't representing him. When asked who is representing him in court, he says it'd be anyone other than Ryu. That said, he doesn't actually have any representation because of his reputation as the Reaper. Sixteen people he's prosecuted have mysteriously died and now that he's actually been apprehended for a murder, that whole Reaper ordeal is sure to be thoroughly examined.

BOY, have we got news for you! When it's pointed out that Van Zieks didn't actually have anything to do with those mysterious deaths (right???), he replies that no one wants to know the true identity of that killer more than he does, but it seems things may come to a head before he can uncover the truth. Van Zieks basically tells Ryu to leave, but being the kind-hearted gentleman that he is, Ryu offers to advocate for him in court. Van Zieks asks whether Ryu trusts him, which is a pretty fair question to ask. He's built up so many racist scumbag points and has such a bad reputation in town, it would be weird for Ryu to trust him unconditionally. Luckily, Ryu has been paying attention just as much as I have; he's heard Van Zieks speak in court and seen the way he treats people (uhh, English citizens, anyway), so he doesn't believe this 'Reaper' has it in him to take a life. Unfortunately, Ryu also has to acknowledge that feelings can't be used as evidence in court. Van Zieks considers the offer gracious, but...

“Not the police, not the judiciary... And not you Nipponese.”

One more scumbag point for putting “you Nipponese” in its own category for no reason. Either way, this man has built up such high defensive walls, you could see them from three galaxies away. Trusting no one is a pretty drastic way of living. Ryu thinks to himself that there's a chasm between the two of them that's 'just too wide and too deep'.

As a sidenote, presenting the attorney armband doesn't lead to any interesting conversation this time, but we can also present the Red-headed League advertisement! Van Zieks surmises that if it were a Black-headed League, Ryu would join without delay, which Ryu then confirms. Van Zieks says that sadly, his hair is neither black nor red. He goes into a most curious identity crisis of sorts, where he looks quite anguished as he wonders which coloured league he should join instead. There have been several debates over his hair color, actually, from lavender to purple to grey. Regardless, Susato points out that “people are troubled by the most unexpected problems at times.” It is unexpected, since Van Zieks needs neither the money nor the company that he would get from joining any such league. It's just the principle of the matter, I suppose.

Over by the crime scene in Fresno Street, Gina gets a little razzled when she suspects Ryu is thinking of defending “that Reaper bloke”. Susato points out that if “Lord van Zieks” really is responsible for the crime, he'll be judged fairly in court. This gets Gina to calm down again, because she really wants to know the truth of what happened and much like Van Zieks, she must know that getting the truth is what Ryu does best. A bit of conversation later, Gina points out one more interesting thing; Gregson apparently held a lot of respect for 'the Reaper'. “I take my hat off to that fella,” were his exact words, apparently. Ryu is skeptical, as am I, because I've seen the way Gregson talks about Van Zieks behind his back.

Gina explains that's exactly why he respected Van Zieks. That's... a little weird and ambiguous. So either he respected Van Zieks's ability to stand tall despite all the public scorn, or he respected the fear he struck into people's hearts. There's one more option; Gina keeps talking about the Reaper instead of Van Zieks, so it's possible that Gregson was talking about the actual Reaper. This seems unlikely, though, since he didn't seem to enjoy being part of the Reaper organization.

And now that we know Van Zieks is the defendant, one might be wondering: Who is the prosecutor? Who is the antagonistic force who will try to stop Ryu from uncovering the truth? Well, we find him over in Stronghart's office. Apparently he took an express train back to London from wherever it was he's been these past few days.

YOOOOUUUU!!! Though before we can address his presence properly, we need to discuss the new case. Stronghart wastes no time asking Ryu and Susato whether they've heard “the sickening news about the Reaper's latest devilry.” Which stands out, to say the least, since Stronghart has always been a strong supporter of Van Zieks up until this point. When Susato points out that surely he doesn't believe it, Stronghart says he believes only in facts, which all point to the unavoidable accusal of Lord van Zieks. Someone sure had a quick turnaround when it comes to his number one prosecutor, geez... Stronghart points out the irony that there's no salvation for anyone prosecuted by the Reaper of the Bailey, and now the Reaper himself must stand in the dock. Just as Van Zieks had already alluded to, Stronghart now claims the public will want answers about those mysterious deaths. Ryu and Susato both point out that which had been rubbed into our faces several times already; Van Zieks denies any involvement, and also there have been several investigations into whether he had anything to do with it. Stronghart kind of brushes this off, though. Turns out, Van Zieks is being traded in for a newer model number one prosecutor: Kazuma Asogi! Which seems weird at first glance, since Kazuma is a defense attorney, but Stronghart considers that a bonus:

“A devastation combination, wouldn't you agree?”

I do agree. Granted, it seems Van Zieks had already figured out the defense's strategies too, he just never actively used them to his own advantage. It also turns out that Kazuma personally requested the prosecutor position for this trial. Susato thinks it's pretty unprecedented to grant a newcomer exchange student such a request, but Stronghart offers some petty excuse about how this way, it won't look like the judiciary are closing ranks. Kazuma, who assumes his friend will take on the defense, says he'll see how Ryu's skills have been honed after practicing law in England for so many months. (Uhh. Actually, bestie, it was only about two months of being a defense attorney and six months of disbarment.) Ryu notes that Kazuma is being hostile towards him and wonders why. On a final note, when asking Stronghart about the gun found at the crime scene, we're told that it's issued to all members of law enforcement, including prosecutors. Van Zieks claims to have lost his. That's a troubling claim indeed, because it's difficult to prove or disprove. GOSH, if only fingerprints were allowed in court.

As Ryu and Susato turn to leave, Kazuma stops them. He once again states he wants Ryu to witness this trial as the defense counsel, to “see how it ends”. Since Kazuma has a very distinct vision for how he wants it to end, I guess this means he intends to confront Ryu with Van Zieks's guilt and have his bestie see that a man like him is unworthy of his trust. Either that, or he expects Ryu to use this trial to find the truth of what really happened with the Professor ten years ago, just as he used Albert's trial to dig into that incident. Still though, this reads as pretty scummy to me, because it means he wants Ryu to lose a trial and lose some of his belief in his clients. In the trial itself, it seems to me that Kazuma desperately believes Van Zieks to be a horrible person deserving of the guilty verdict. Therefore, he in no way can hold hope that Ryu will prove him wrong (unlike what went down in case 2-3 with Albert). Anyway, Ryu says that Van Zieks would never put his fate in his hands.

“... It's not easy to see behind the facade sometimes.”

Case 2-3 already told us this, but it's nice to have it confirmed by someone who was closer to Van Zieks. Because remember, Kazuma spent three months by Van Zieks's side (and even fighting by his side), so of course he would know more about his personality than we do. Kazuma hands over a photograph of Barok when he was younger and

GOOD LORD, HE CAN SMILE. Or he could when he was younger, anyway. Kazuma states the picture was displayed in Gregson's office. What he's 'trying to say' is that if Ryu really thinks he can trust “the Reaper” (distancing choice of words again), he might find that some straight talking will change his view. I got the impression we've been straight talking Van Zieks ever since we first met him, but okay. Let's take the picture and back to the gaol we go! Van Zieks is once again reading from some paper and Ryu points out that either he's an incredibly slow reader or it's an incredibly long letter, but either way, Ryu might even be able to read English faster than him. Naturally, this was said loud enough for Van Zieks to overhear.

Scumbag point for hypocrisy, but also a scumbag point for “Nipponese”. When Ryu asks whether it's still Albert's letter he's reading, Van Zieks says he had the case report brought to him in secret. So wait, the Yard does share case details with its suspect? Hilarious. Once again, Van Zieks insists the situation has nothing to do with Ryu, up until the prosecutor's name is revealed to him. And so, the masked cardboard cutout student has become the master! Ryu notes that all the color drained from Van Zieks's face, which is pretty impressive when there's barely any color there to begin with. Ryu has the opportunity now to thrust the photograph into his face, so let's do that. He's immediately alarmed, since he assumed it to be lost and would never have expected Gregson to have it. When Ryu says that Gregson had a deep respect for him, he dismisses that as nonsense, only to correct himself. “There was a time things were like that.”

Van Zieks thanks Ryu for that nice glimpse into the past, and Ryu thinks to himself that there was a glimmer in Van Zieks's eyes- a brief twinkle. He considers that “an insight into the true nature of this man known to all as the stone-cold Reaper of the Bailey”, with “the true nature” being highlighted as orange. So this right here is undeniable; this is what the narrative is illustrating to us now. The true nature of Barok van Zieks is that of someone who was hopeful and jovial; kind-hearted, as Albert knew him. What we see now, that harsh exterior full of harsh words, is not his nature at all.

Van Zieks is more willing to talk now. He once again speaks of Klint, rehashing the same story we've heard several times already. Van Zieks claims there's not a single day where he doesn't curse the name Asogi. He considers it a cruel twist of fate that the man's son intends to crucify him in 'some kangaroo court'. Clearly, he doesn't think highly of the upcoming trial if he refers to it as a kangaroo court, but that's likely because he knows he isn't the real killer. When Ryu points out that he still doesn't understand why Stronghart apprenticed Kazuma to Van Zieks, the explanation is that “it's what he does”. Van Zieks believes that Stronghart knew Kazuma's true identity from the outset, but still provides no real explanation as to why Stronghart 'did what he did' and even assigned Kazuma as the prosecutor this time. Van Zieks goes on to contemplate the name Asogi some more and calls it 'the epitome of his bane'.

I've talked before about how utterly flawed it is that Van Zieks attributes Genshin's crime to his race and/or cultural upbringing and proceeds to tar every single Japanese person with the same brush. There's no need to go into this again; we all know it's wrong. Turns out, even Van Zieks knows it's wrong, but we'll get back to that momentarily. First, Van Zieks needs to talk about Klint even more. (good lord...) He explains that Klint van Zieks was hunting down a mass murderer and “assigned to the investigation as his partner was a certain visiting student dispatched by the Yard.” This was Genshin, of course, and I believe this is the first time it's said that he too was looking into the Professor case. So Van Zieks already mentioned in the previous case that the Japanese students had left a deep impact on him, and also that he once toasted friendship with a Japanese person, but now we have this:

“But none of us saw the true nature of the man.”

True nature is once again in orange here, but this time as a red herring. Van Zieks believes that the Professor murders were Genshin's true nature, when it isn't quite true at all. Regardless, since Van Zieks was still in university at the time the exchange students were in the country, I don't think he would've had that much contact with Genshin. I expect he encountered the man on rare occasion while Klint associated most with him. Every meeting was enough to foster this respect and friendship, though, so it's clear that young Van Zieks was easily influenced and had a very open mind towards a foreign exchange student. But then, that's what makes the next portion of the story all the more damaging.

“My esteemed brother... The people I believed in... And any semblance of right prevailing over wrong!”

As Van Zieks also already alluded to in the previous case, he found himself in a very dark place. That isn't surprising. Every positive thing Van Zieks knew in his life, from his family to his closest friends, was ripped away from him in extremely close succession. What must've been the final nail in the coffin was Genshin outright admitting to his crimes. It erased all doubt that perhaps there was some sort of misunderstanding or a frame job. Going over everything Van Zieks has said so far, it seems he didn't just blame Genshin for the tremendous loss he suffered; he blamed himself. He must believe that his trust in Genshin blinded him to this supposed 'true nature', just as it must've also blinded Klint, and that the whole tragedy could've been prevented if only he'd been more cautious. So now, in present day, he no longer trusts anyone. He outright says so.

Van Zieks goes on to talk about how he was the one who prosecuted the Professor. Since he'd only just graduated, such a thing usually wouldn't be allowed, but he “beleaguered the ascribed prosecutor until he consented.” This person was Mael Stronghart, who back then was apparently still no more than a prosecutor. A highly accomplished one, but a prosecutor nonetheless. Since Klint was the Director of Prosecutions (or Chief Prosecutor???) at the time, that means he actually ranked above Stronghart. Interesting. Regardless, since Stronghart agreed to let Van Zieks lead the prosecution and instead only acted as an advisor, Van Zieks now feels indebted to him. That certainly explains why he's usually so good about following Stronghart's orders and not asking questions.

“And, of all things, as a lawyer.”

Ahhh, this is the part where Ryu enters the chronology. Our protagonist points out that he's felt Van Zieks's animosity since the first time he faced him in the courtroom; his obvious deep loathing of Japanese people. And here comes perhaps one of the most important, yet most overlooked lines Van Zieks will ever utter in these games:

“But for so many years, that hatred had festered inside me, I could no longer control it.”

So here, Van Zieks admits to two things. First of all, he admits that he was wrong to hold such deep loathing and by extension, to give that loathing a voice. He's a man of logic, after all. To cling to something which he refers to as illogical is about as wrong as one could get. Not only that, he admits that this was an unstoppable force he should have controlled, but was too weak to do so. The hatred overpowered him and did away with common sense. He behaved stupidly and irrationally because for ten years, hatred and negativity was all he knew. But what's even more striking here is Ryu's answer, which is also often overlooked:

Ryu, bless his heart, doesn't blame Van Zieks for succumbing to this weakness. Bear in mind, he's the victim here. Van Zieks wouldn't have encountered many other Japanese people in those ten years, if at all. This means the first person he lashed out against was Ryu. Naturally, Ryu can't speak for Susato or Soseki, who received their own verbal assaults and might have different opinions on the matter. Ryu is just one man, but in our narrative, he's the main protagonist and the main target of these outbursts. Is it misleading and perhaps even problematic in the grand scheme of things to have the protagonist sympathize with such motivation? Well, that depends on many different factors. There's no easy answer for this because it's a nuanced, cultural sort of thing. Personally, I was a bit bothered by it, but not to the point that it ruined the experience for me.

Van Zieks admits that just as the Japanese were the bane of his life, Kazuma Asogi must believe Van Zieks to be the bane of his. He is, after all, the Reaper who sent his father to the gallows. Van Zieks thinks that Kazuma intends to take revenge in court and... Really, this is true.

There's a quick bit of conversation about Gregson now. Turns out, the only reason the Professor was caught at all was because Gregson forced an autopsy on Klint despite it being considered the highest taboo at the time. Van Zieks says that as a result of Gregson's powerful conviction, he could avenge his brother's death. He looks quite torn, a bit pained. He must believe he owes Gregson something for this. The conversation then moves on to Van Zieks's revolver, which he claims to have misplaced an undetermined amount of time ago. “I must have stowed it somewhere, I suppose. Or left it somewhere, perhaps.” Van Zieks clearly doesn't think highly of firearms as a weapon, since he's constantly carrying a sword around instead. Susato points out that Ryu has a talent for misplacing things in common with Van Zieks, which leads to one more scumbag outburst.

… Dude. Come on. You just admitted it was illogical. You came so far! Scumbag point for you. Still, as the conversation rounds to a close, Van Zieks utters the words “Mister... Naruhodo”, much to Ryu's surprise. This is the first time he's actually said Ryu's name! Van Zieks once again reiterates that he's lost all confidence in England's judiciary system. He doesn't trust the police, the judiciary or lawyers. Even so, there's still one thing he's willing to believe in.

“That which you see in the eyes of another across the courtroom: a simple determination to know the truth. From the very first time we clashed in the Bailey almost a year ago now... I couldn't deny it, even though I dearly wished I could. 'Here is a loathsome Japanese... who has absolute integrity as a lawyer.' There are only two other men I've known with that same look in their eyes: my brother, Klint. … And Genshin Asogi.”

This is interesting. So at first when he saw that look in Ryu's eyes, he must've been reminded of Genshin. And again, this is why he directed such hatred towards Ryu; he saw someone who wasn't alive anymore. But now he recalls that Klint also had that same gaze, and so he wants to believe that Ryu is not similar to a deceitful murderer, he's instead similar to his beloved brother. (Boy is he going to have to reevaluate how he judges people when he finds out that his beloved brother was the deceitful murderer.) Van Zieks says that when he saw the photograph, he was reminded of a time when he could laugh, free of the shackles of mistrust which plague him now. This is very relevant since Van Zieks indeed can't laugh anymore. We never see him do it. He can't even smile.

“But at times the mire into which I've sunk makes it almost impossible to breathe.”

Someone please get this man to a professional therapist. If he means that in a more literal sense and he does occasionally feel like he can't breathe, that's telltale signs of panic attacks. It could just be, of course, that he's being overdramatic and the “impossible to breathe” bit is just fanciful wordplay to go with the mire analogy. Still though, considering he's also mentioned being in a dark place and that he's willing to die so long as it serves a useful purpose, and that he drinks his wine to stave off tedium... He's clearly depressed. But then, he seems to know it. He acknowledges that the way he is now is not the way things should be, and that he needs to fight to overcome it. And so:

“... In tomorrow's trial... Will you advocate for me?”

Boom. Swallowed his pride and turned to Ryu for help because he knows it's what's best for him. He no longer trusts anyone, but he's willing to trust Ryu because once he starts opening up again and has that trust repaid, then perhaps things can gradually go back to the way things were when he was younger. Mind, he still hasn't apologized for his actions, but that doesn't change that Ryu at least is willing to extend a hand to Van Zieks. It's a little sad that Susato doesn't properly form her own opinion on this and instead just goes along with whatever Ryu says. I would've liked to know just how she feels about Van Zieks's attitude and whether or not he deserves to be helped. She doesn't object to it, at least, and since Susato usually always speaks her mind, I can only assume she genuinely agrees with Ryu's sentiments.

The next day, in the defendant's lobby, it's remarked there's a 'menacing tension' in the air and Ryu surmises out loud it's the result of the menacing appearance of the defendant. Well-deserved, that remark. Touché. Van Zieks asks him for a little more courtesy in a polite enough manner, but considering the lack of courtesy he's shown Ryu over the past 8 months, that's hypocritical. He informs Ryu that this is a closed trial without a jury, which bums me out because it means no more Summation Examination. I would've liked to see Asogi react to that. (S)Holmes comes in and has the weirdest little banter with Van Zieks that I honestly can't... really decipher. There's several things about it that really strike me as being off:

- “And I you. I see London's celebrated great detective is as active as ever.”

- “Oh, you exaggerate, my dear fellow. Compared to my paltry engagements with a few trivial cases... The Reaper's overbearing presence is a far greater deterrent to the black roots of crime in our capital. And whilst I may not agree with your methods... There is at least one point on which I would readily commend you.”

- “What an honour. And that would be...?”

- “Your eye for a good lawyer, sir. […] Behind this lawyer there is a very great mind. My own.”

Alright, so... First of all, we know (S)Holmes is super arrogant and would never refer to his past cases as “trivial” in all sincerity. Plus, it's established that he's very weird with compliments, such as referring to Gregson as “the best of those blunderers of the Yard”, so complimenting Van Zieks directly on the effect he has on crime feels off. Aside from that, (S)Holmes addresses Van Zieks as the Reaper and continues to talk about 'his methods', when it's already been established (S)Holmes doesn't believe Van Zieks has anything to do with the Reaper killings. Taking all that into account, I can only really assume that the first half of this above conversation is (S)Holmes being weirdly passive aggressive towards Van Zieks, with Van Zieks being passive aggressive in turn. It really, truly feels as if there was some sort of backstory between these two that they had to scrap at the last second. Regardless, the exchange ends with (S)Holmes warning Van Zieks that this will be “quite a trial”.

Gina Lestrade shows up with Yujin Mikotoba (….. when did they meet???), saying they intend to watch the trial, and I am very impressed with how (S)Holmes manages to disappear from the scene and not say a word when his old partner arrives. Anyway, Gina looks Ryu square in the eye and asks him why he agreed to take Van Zieks on. Everyone's saying it was him who killed Gregson. Considering everyone was saying it was her who killed Pop Windibank six months ago, you'd think she might want to tone down her attitude, but she's clearly in mourning and lashing out. See? People who are hurting can say insensitive things. Ryu insists he doesn't believe it to be true, but Gina demands to know that if it wasn't him, then who?

“An' if it turns out it was 'im wot killed the boss... Then God 'elp 'im!”

It's interesting to remember that during The Unspeakable Story, Gina wasn't afraid of Van Zieks for his Reaper reputation. She didn't believe in the curse and didn't think she would end up like the other defendants. Now, she absolutely no longer gives a damn whether Van Zieks is the mysterious Reaper or not. She only thinks he might be a murderer who took away her mentor and that's what has her judge him so fiercely. Van Zieks remarks on her fiery eyes and tells her that the culprit does indeed deserve every inch of her loathing. “At least that may be some solace to the deceased.” So here, in a roundabout way, it rather looks as if Van Zieks is sympathizing with Gina's anger. At the very least, he's condoning it, just not towards himself.

Entering the courtroom, it becomes clear very fast just how serious this trial will become. Just as was alluded to before, the judge confirms that the 'Reaper of the Old Bailey' has been undermining Her Majesty's justice system and therefore, the people will demand answers on this matter. Ryu thinks to himself the trial will be a lot more far-reaching than just Gregson's murder. Sure enough, Kazuma is at the prosecutor's bench and ready to get that vengeance Van Zieks referred to in jail. Shockingly, the first witness he summons is actually Van Zieks himself. The judge is surprised, but Kazuma explains that as a prosecutor, Van Zieks believes in the oath of office he's taken; he'll be compelled to tell the truth. Because contrary to what happened in Memoirs of the Clouded Kokoro, Van Zieks is against perjury! (I WILL NEVER GET OVER WHAT HAPPENED WITH SHAMSPEARE!) Sure enough, he takes the stand and Kazuma says the court would like to hear him explain some things away.

He really is just brutally honest, isn't he? Both in his courtroom methods and in how he shows his emotions. He doesn't sugarcoat, he doesn't beat around the bush, he definitely doesn't lie... At most, he may withhold some information. Unfortunately, his testimony is mostly useless. The judge remarks that he didn't want to imagine this day would come, but ever since Van Zieks became known as the Reaper, he's been dreading it. The judge, our neutral ground, seems to be convinced that Van Zieks may have actually done the deed. That's not good. Kazuma acts all smug, saying that Van Zieks indeed hasn't explained anything away and that his testimony barely qualifies as an excuse. Van Zieks notes that his 'mute apprentice' has a way with words. Meanwhile, Ryu thinks to himself that Kazuma isn't behaving like himself, which is a sentiment they'll keep repeating throughout the case. … I gotta be honest here, I didn't notice all that much of a difference between this Kazuma and the one from the very first case of the game. I mean, come on, he sliced a man's hair off and cursed his descendants just for insulting Ryu. He's slightly more arrogant here, maybe, but since he was only the assistant there and is a leading counsel here, it makes sense for him to be more proactive and confident in his methods. Then again, I'm not a Kazuma expert; maybe there's something I'm missing.

In his testimony, Van Zieks revealed that he was investigating Gregson, but when pressed on it he won't admit the exact reason for it. He only says he'd identified a distinct possibility Gregson was involved in a case he was investigating. When asked how he even knew where Gregson would be, he openly admits to having stolen into his office and consulted his diary. (“Dear Diary, today I dropped my fish 'n chips on the way to Fresno Street-”) When told that illegally entering Gregson's office would warrant serious consequences, Van Zieks says he was aware of that risk.

The rest of the testimony is pressed without further hitches, though what did strike me as interesting is that at one point, Ryu suggests the gunshot might've originated from outside the room, but Van Zieks immediately says it's out of the question. He shoots the possibility down with evidence only he could have experienced (the bang sounded inside the room and he could smell gunpowder), and in doing so, only implicates himself further. Detrimentally honest, this one. Not only that, but he picked the gun up.

NO KIDDING that was carelessness. Is he related to Miles Edgeworth after all? Kazuma talks about how three street peddlers overheard the bang and burst through the door with some force. Van Zieks states they almost gave him a heart attack in the process (omg) and Ryu thinks to himself: “(But you're supposed to be the Reaper...)” C'mon Ryu, haven't you seen enough of this man by now to know he gets jarred easily?

When the testimony rounds to a close, things get interesting. Kazuma uses his defense attorney skills, as promised. He uses evidence from the Court Record to point out contradictions in Van Zieks's testimony, thereby 'proving he's lying'. Hey, what happened to Van Zieks believing in the oath of office and being compelled to tell the truth? Did Kazuma call Van Zieks to the stand just to expose him as a liar? He wins the judge over quite easily by illustrating these contradictions and casting doubt on Van Zieks's integrity. Tragic, because as Van Zieks says:

Van Zieks steps down from the stand and disappears for the remainder of the trial day. He doesn't even show up during intermission in the defendant's lobby. Characters do still talk about him, though!

I mean... He ain't lyin'. At one point, Kazuma utters the words “the defence is fated to lose. And the prosecution to win,” which once again confirms that Kazuma basically asked Ryu to take part in an 'unwinnable' trial. Which, y'know, is technically fine. Losing a trial isn't the end of the world, especially when the defendant (in Kazuma's eyes) is actually guilty. Still though, personally asking Ryu to take on Van Zieks just so he can watch the man be exposed as a killer is kind of... Kazuma, sir, are you also unable to control your hatred and having it lash out in illogical ways? Is that a parallel with Van Zieks I spy?

The rest of the trial isn't directly related to Van Zieks. It's just a whole bunch of roundabout arguing with street peddlers, red-headed scammers and the revelation that one of those peddlers is actually Daley Vigil, the missing former prison warder. Despite knowing of the dangers, Kazuma asks Ryu to help him forcefully break some of the man's black psyche-locks (c'mon, we all know that's what's impeding his memories) and they send the man to the hospital as a result. Welp. Unveiling the truth is becoming increasingly dangerous in this game and that's really upping the stakes for us.

Into the next investigation day we go! Ryu surmises that it's clear now “Van Zieks definitely didn't do it.” Even so, there are some unanswered questions about the man. What was he even doing at the crime scene and what's with that investigation into Gregson he didn't want to talk about in court? Heading on over to the Chief Justice's office, we overhear him pressuring Kazuma into 'continuing the trial as instructed'. Once he takes note of Ryu and the others, he tells them that he wanted Van Zieks's trial concluded that day and blames 'Asogi's unwelcome inquiries' for it taking longer than necessary. Stronghart's becoming increasingly ominous, here... I don't know for certain why he doesn't just go the extra mile to have Van Zieks proven innocent so he can keep using his Reaper tool to intimidate the masses. I suppose it's because with Gregson dead, he's lost his most important strategist in the killings and the tool of the Reaper's curse can't be used as easily anymore. Assassins probably come a dime a dozen, so Shinn can be replaced, but Gregson... Not so much. Ryu asks Stronghart whether Kazuma truly believes Van Zieks to be the Reaper, but Stronghart says he wouldn't know. He once again talks about the history of the Reaper with its very long run of coincidental deaths and tells us nothing new or interesting.

To prison we go, to visit Van Zieks himself! He's reading a book now, but we're never told what it is. He tries to ignore the visitors, but just as always, eventually comes up to the bars to talk.

YOU FREAKIN- I CAN'T- WHY- How many more times must we teach you this lesson, old man?!!! Thankfully, even Ryu is fed up at this point.

Finally. He spoke up. I've seen a lot of people criticize the fact that Ryu never properly confronts Van Zieks with the damage he's been doing, and on the one hand I would agree. Calling people out on their bullshit is a very useful step in having them notice their mistakes. However, I'd be remiss if I didn't point out that is also a very Western view. It's very easy for us to think that Ryu should stand up for himself and call Van Zieks a prejudiced little tosser who needs to think before he speaks, but that simply isn't part of his character. There may be several reasons to explain why he doesn't confront Van Zieks more firmly, but I'd like to focus on just two. The first is that Ryu is an exchange student who came to England as a 'guest' and is facing not just one racist. Not even five or ten. Everywhere he goes, he's surrounded by people just like Van Zieks. We've seen it in the judge, we've seen it in the jurors, we've seen it in Gregson and in witnesses... Ryu is a minority in a very literal sense, since there's only one other Japanese person (two if we count Soseki) we know of in this entire city. There's a very natural, very understandable defense mechanism which may kick in when surrounded by potentially dangerous individuals, and that is to withdraw; to be as quiet as possible and to attract as little trouble as possible, since 'they outnumber you'. Bonus points for the extreme difference in social standing between Ryu and Van Zieks.

There's one other thing which adds to the above. Ryu was written to be your everyday Japanese person, and their view on confrontation is quite different from our own. I remembered this from a job interview I once had with a Japanese company and looked into it again to refresh my memory: Japanese people are non-confrontational. It's very important for them to maintain a sort of harmony during conversation and therefore, they'll rarely utter negative sentiments, such as criticism, in a way that will cause embarrassment to the person they're addressing. Instead, they employ something often referred to as indirect communication. “The pattern of Japanese indirect communication uses far less words to convey intent in a more subtle manner. Indirect communication uses expression, posture, and tone of voice of the speaker to draw meaning from the actual conversation.” This is very deeply ingrained into the Japanese culture and, if the sources I reviewed are correct, it goes all the way back to the feudal days. Mind, this attitude isn't even limited to Japan. I've been told there's several other countries who adopt that very same attitude and if you cause someone else to lose face, it can have some very severe repercussions for you. Kazuma is a bit more outspoken than Ryu, for example when they face Jezail, but this makes sense also, since Asogi was written to be more progressive. It seems to me that Ryu has been using indirect communication quite often already and, since Van Zieks is woefully unequipped to read this type of communication, Ryu has now finally resorted to something more direct. It's still not a sharp call-out, but rather, the above line reads to me as something in-between direct and indirect communication. And it works.

HELL FROZE OVER! We've done it, lads! Or, as Iris puts it:

So even the rest of the cast is acknowledging this is a big deal and we've made tremendous progress. Could someone else have confronted Van Zieks in a more direct, more Western way before this point? Sure. But would he have listened? The judge has already snarked at him several times during trials and it's always been brushed off as nothing. The only person he might've listened to would've been Albert, but what is the narrative significance of having a side character confront Van Zieks? There isn't one. This was a very impactful moment where Ryu himself resorted to a more Western tactic to get his point across and Van Zieks, in turn, finally uttered an apology. So now we get to have an earnest conversation with the man at last. Van Zieks says he was impressed; not by Ryu but by Kazuma. On first glance, this seems like a mean thing to say, but... Van Zieks is already intimately familiar with Ryu's performance in the courtroom. Why would he still be impressed by that? Kazuma, however, he's never seen in action before. Van Zieks thinks it's all rather “sardonic”.

It's called a cruel irony, Barok. A common tool in storytelling. He himself considers it “retribution for having played the part of the Reaper all these years”. So once again it's discussed how the Reaper minimizes the amount of crime in the capital and since that's a goal Van Zieks is committed to, he never said anything to disprove the rumors. Ryu insists that someone else is profiting off Van Zieks's silence on the matter and is basically using him as a scapegoat. As it turns out, Van Zieks wasn't quite as passive about the matter as he's led us to believe.

Hm. Alright, so he thinks it's good the Reaper's curse is reducing crime in London, but clearly he wants the Reaper organization brought to justice. In a way, he's profiting off these 'accidental deaths' since the fear that comes from them aligns with his goal of crime reduction, but he doesn't actively condone the Reaper murders and wants them halted. Since there's so much accurate information about the accused used in the killings, Van Zieks surmised a while ago that someone from Scotland Yard must've been involved in the killings. It's taken him “many years” to identify the central figure in the organization: Tobias Gregson. Naturally, everyone is shocked. We knew Gregson! And sure, he wasn't exactly a kind person, but he certainly didn't appear to be a killer. He was very rough around the edges, but from what we'd been led to believe, he had a good heart. … A decent heart. Mediocre, one might say. Ryu asks whether the reason Van Zieks was investigating Gregson was to expose him as the Reaper, but Van Zieks repeats the notion that the Reaper is not a single person. He doesn't have a doubt, though, that Gregson was a key member of the organization who did all of the planning. Believe it or not, Gregson was the brains behind the killings; the tactician who investigated and plotted, then left the dirty work to an assassin by the name of Asa Shinn. (LOCALIZATION WHY)

So now that we have this information, we can come to a very interesting conclusion. Both Gregson and Shinn are dead now, so by Van Zieks's reasoning, the Reaper is dead. You'd think this is good, but it does in fact make it very difficult to find the truth. Rather, Van Zieks believes that the truth died with Gregson (he hinted as much twice already) and while the seasoned Ace Attorney player knows it won't be impossible to expose a dead person as a killer, it'd be a hectic ordeal. The seasoned Great Ace Attorney player will know the Reaper hierarchy extends just a bit higher and the two who died are only pawns, but... Y'know. Approaching this from a first-time-player point of view, you'll know things will get troublesome.

There's another topic of conversation where Van Zieks once again addresses how sharp Kazuma is in court. He didn't miss a thing.

OUCH. So when Ryu first arrived, Van Zieks saw Genshin whenever he looked at him, not only due to his roots but due to 'the look in his eyes when searching for the truth'. Now, he sees Genshin in Kazuma, which surely makes a lot more sense. Van Zieks goes on to say that it's true some of the aristocracy from 10 years ago were problematic and abusing their power. “In a way, Asogi was carving out a canker from society that we British couldn't deal with ourselves.” So here, he sounds almost complimentary of the Professor's actions- specifically Asogi's actions. As if it would've all been well and good, were it not for the Professor's final victim. “But that's precisely why it makes no sense. Klint van Zieks was a noble and upstanding man. He wasn't corrupt.”

Remember way back in The Unspeakable Story when I surmised that Van Zieks boiled Genshin's actions down to his race in order to avoid the belief that there might've been a reason his brother was killed? We see it here again. Van Zieks is in doubt. He may say vocally that “it makes no sense”, but that line in itself is already telling. The fact that he acknowledges it and draws it into question implies to us that he's skeptical of the story. Deep down, he knows something is amiss. He knows there's some sort of explanation he's missing, but if he were to dig too deeply into it, he'd have to acknowledge that perhaps his brother was corrupt. And this still isn't all of it. There's one more thing Van Zieks has to discuss before we can round this conversation to a close. Ten years ago, shortly after Klint died, Genshin saved his life.

There's that phrasing again. “True nature”. It's not in orange this time, but it's there all the same. Van Zieks is convinced that Genshin is the one who had a hidden true nature. In this story, we learn that 'the scum of London' had already targeted him several times even before he became known as the Reaper, simply because of who he was and who his brother was. JEESH. Harsh. So on the night in question, a couple of thugs also tried to kill him (allegedly) but Genshin stepped in to protect him. Genshin became lightly wounded as a result. This is the part where I would have expected them to explain Van Zieks's scars, but he never mentions being wounded himself, so we can't be sure this is when it happened. Curious. This was the perfect opportunity and they let it slide. So anyway, two days after that incident, Genshin was arrested.

Some more telling lines here. Van Zieks thinks he'd never recount the story to anyone; not because there's no need to tell it. It's because it must be difficult to talk about. On its own, that might be a farfetched conclusion I wouldn't make, but Ryu confirms it with his follow-up line: “Thank you... for confiding in me.” We can take this line to mean exactly what it says; Van Zieks confided something painful. He let down some more walls. Growth!

So with all this out of the way, there's a whole load more investigation to do before this case is over. Most of it has to do with Genshin's will, a mysterious trunk belonging to Gregson, the missing time of death on the autopsy report... Nothing too relevant to Van Zieks's character. However, if we go into the prosecutor's office and examine things while Kazuma is there, we do get some fun tidbits about how Van Zieks wouldn't trust anyone else to touch his things and would rearrange it all himself whenever needed. From the sound of it, Van Zieks is very meticulous and a loner, which aligns with what we know about him. Some more conversation later, we reach the topic of the Reaper with Kazuma. He agrees that Gregson was definitely involved in the Reaper organization, but there's one thing that's more important. “Who's been giving orders to the Inspector?” In my eyes, it's a bit of a stretch to assume with certainty anyone was giving orders; Gregson might've just taken up the vigilante justice by himself and found some way to pay Shinn enough money to get in on it. Kazuma insists, though, that Van Zieks is 'the real Reaper'. We as the audience already know that's nonsense, we know Kazuma is wrong. Or perhaps we might think that if somehow Van Zieks pulled the wool over our eyes and Kazuma is correct, that'd be one heck of a wild twist. Kazuma gives no real reason why he believes this, he only goes on to say that ten years ago, it was Van Zieks who 'decided his father must be a mass murderer'. Shockingly, Susato is the one to jump in here and outright say to Kazuma that he's wrong; that Van Zieks only saw that 'justice was done as the law dictates' and he wasn't to blame for Genshin's execution. Kazuma insists that people condemn people and the law is just a tool they use for it. So I suppose that's exactly what he's doing right now. He's condemning Van Zieks, just as Van Zieks once condemned Genshin. We're cycling! And my main question now is this: If Stronghart had been the prosecutor in the Professor's trial instead, would Kazuma be just as vengeful towards him? Because remember, it's people who condemn people. This implies that anyone who had taken on the job of prosecutor at that time is the one who 'decided that Genshin must've been a murderer' and would need to take responsibility in Kazuma's eyes. Kazuma's beef isn't with Van Zieks personally, it's with the prosecutor who used that tool of the law and also evidence.

HAHAHAAA! HAH! If you align this screenshot next to the “Klint van Zieks was a noble and upstanding man” line, you get a wonderful parallel. These two prosecutors are both dead wrong about their beloved family, and they're about to find out in the worst way possible.

One murder mystery spread out over two episodes? You bet! Stay tuned for the last case, The Resolve of Ryunosuke Naruhodo!

#dgs #dgs spoilers #tgaa #tgaa spoilers #barok van zieks #I can't believe I managed to cram it all into one post #phew #but this was a big one

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

Text

Humans are Space Orcs, “Protective Humans.”

Saw this suggestion in my inbox from a couple months ago lol :)

“I am glad you could agree to come commander, with all of the …. Issues with the LFIL, we have had a really difficult time trying to maintain good relations with the rest of the galaxy.”

“We are glad we could come, of course, anything to help people understand humans a little bit better, plus Dr. Krill has a speaking engagement at the conference, so my coming here was twofold.”

“Ah, yes, your little doctor, when I heard about his particular speech, I have to admit I am very intrigued and excited. Anyway, we are glad that humans could come and help us with our mission. Even with human tourism growing in certain sectors of the galaxy, there are still many places were humans had never been seen, and it is in those areas where we have the most difficulty. They hear the rumors, and they see reports on the news about the worst kind of humans, and they just get scared.”

Commander Vir pulled to a stop standing next to the conference director, A Finnari by trade with a relatively trustworthy face despite being an alien, “Well, then they wouldn't be the only ones. Humans have been practicing paranoia against ourselves for thousands of years.”

Out in the hallway of the conference center, aliens bustled by many of them staring on at the commander and his group of following humans with wide frightened eyes. Some of them pointed in excitement while others shied away to the other side of the hall.

It was still true that less than 7 percent of all aliens in the galaxy had ever seen a human, and for many of these, that fact was no different.

This would be their first time seeing a human.

The commander had to bite back his innate response to smile at them, seeing as most aliens, like most animals, considered the display of teeth to be a threat. So he simply waved a hand garnering a few flinches, and a number of curious head tilts.

Maybe someone should do a seminar on human body language, perhaps then the general public would feel more comfortable around them.

“Anyway, we thank you for coming, but your friend’s lecture is about to begin, and I am very excited to see how it goes.” The commander nodded to the Finnari director, and he, and the other three humans with him, Maverick Ramirez and Dr. Katie stepped into the room where doctor Krill was setting up his presentation.

As was becoming routine at the conference, they received a gasp and an eruption of mutterings as they appeared from the doorway.

Dr Krill looked up from his work, as the humans inched to the side of the door trying not to be too disruptive, “Stop right there you four, and come here.”

In confusion the humans did as directed.

Dr. Krill stood up voice electronically amplified over the sound of the room, “Can everyone hear me, good, that is very good, now today I am going to be talking about a subject that, as the humans say, is very near and dear to my heart. That translates as, it is very important to me.” he motioned the humans to sit down on the stage, and they did as ordered though rather awkwardly, “Now I thought about just speaking to you for today, but have decided that, you aren't going to be able to keep your focus away from the humans anyway, so I might do us all a favor and add them into my lecture as a way to introduce you to them in a controlled environment, and hopefully, after today, you will come to see the humans as I do. Great allies, and an undeniable opportunity for friendship.”

“now , I wanted to do something a little different today, something a little off from my normal structured way of speaking about humans because I find it very displeasing the way the rest of the galaxy sees humans, and I want to change that. I tried determining a fact about humans that is the most forgiving and the most empathetic. Something all of you would enjoy.”

There was a muttering of intrigue about the room.

“Well I am going to start off with a little bit of a lecture. A lot of you may not know that humans give live birth to their offspring, not eggs like the Vrul, Rundi, or the Celzex, but more like the Tesraki or the Drev. however based on the physical structure of the human, and the slow evolution to walking on two feet. Humans are only capable of producing offspring at a reasonable size generally around six to seven pounds, and arguably no greater than twelve to fifteen pounds, though there may be exceptions. Now, as you know six pounds is very very small compared to the end result of a human, and the size of the head has the greatest bearing on this issue. The human head shape requires offspring to be born extremely underdeveloped, so underdeveloped that when they are born they can barely see or hear and have no ability to coordinate their own movements. It takes almost an entire rotation of their planet around their star in order for a human to walk. In essence it takes as much as eighteen revolutions before the average human is no longer taken care of by their parents.”

There was a muttering from the crowd.

“Now based on the surprising helplessness of the human offspring compared to the final product, they tend to be very loud, and very difficult to take care of seeing how underdeveloped they are. Generally if any one of us were saddled with an offspring like that we would probably just give up, but the human brain is so hot wired to love their offspring, that none of those annoying things generally tend to matter. In fact, the power of a human’s bonding abilities is so strong that they can even bond to creatures that are NOT human in nature.”

Another surprised murmuring around the crowd.

“A human will have the same reaction to a nonhuman than they do to their own young, and in that case, this means that a human will protect the offspring of another species with their own lives. Human parents have been known to kill, lift objects five times their size, and fight off even more dangerous predators for the safety of their offspring, and they will do it for yours too..”

This time the murmuring around the room was almost palpable, it was as if they could hardly believe what they were hearing.

That couldn't be right.

“What if I told you that the safest place our offspring could be, is in the arms of a human.”

That caused an absolute uproar of chattering, and Krill had to wait a few minutes before the room calmed down.

The humans were looking between each other with some curiosity hardly believing what they were hearing, not sure where this was going.

“now , I have brought forward a couple of gracious volunteers who trust my judgement enough to help me demonstrate what you are about to witness .”

“Our first volunteer.” He motioned to the side of the stage were a Rundi was waiting, as she walked onto the stage, the crowd noticed at least three tiny shapes running around her feet.

The human turned to look eyes wide, to the crowd they almost looked hungry.

“Dr. Katie, can you tell me what you are thinking.”

The human looked up her wide brown eyes somewhat magnified through her glasses, “I want to hold one so bad.” She turned her head towards the rundi, “Can I hold one…. Am I allowed to do that. I’ll wear gloves.”

The rundi mother seemed surprisingly calm allowing the human to come over and pick up her little ones holding them gently in their hands running a finger over their tiny heads. One of the humans was holding the tiny creature to his chest. Patting its tiny head with one finger.

“You see the protective nature in which the humans hold young that isn’t their own, I picked the rundi first specifically for this reason, simply because they don’t look remotely human. Arguably the humans shouldn't even connect them with their own young, and yet this is the posture of a creature that isn’t going to let anything happen to their charges.” He turned to the humans. “What would you do if someone tried to hurt these little rundi?”

The darker human looked up from the creature he was holding to his chest, “I don't know probably rip their arms off and beat them with them…. But that's probably a bit graphic so… er, i would be very very upset?”

“Great save.” The commander muttered, stroking his hand delicately down the little Rundi’s back, who seemed to be enjoying it rather happily. Of course all the humans were wearing gloves, considering that the rundi had an aversion to water, and humans had a habit of shedding it wherever they went.

They actually seemed disappointed when they had to let the tiny creatures go.

Not that they were disappointed at the next moment when A dark blue-black tesraki brought out a fuzzy little bundle.

One of the humans made a strange squeaking noise. Again begging to hold it.

The humans seemed to be having even more fun than the rest of the crowd was having watching them.

“You see the younger a creature of a different species is, the more likely humans are to adopt it with their social bonding.”

“Look at its little pig nose eep!”

“Hey let me hold it. You don’t have to be a hog.”

“You can fight me.”

“Sharing is caring.”

“What if I don’t care.” The humans jostled with each other for a turn holding, petting or cooing over the creature, though their aggression seemed to terminate at a predetermined distance from the small one, and if it wasn’t obayed, there were other humans to make sure they kept in line.

“You see, I would wager to say that your children are safer with humans than they are with you. Not to call you a poor parent. But humans will take falling impacts, jump in front of speeding vehicles, and their bodies are known to be quite durable.”

The commander was leaning over Dr. Katie’s shoulder stroking the Tesraki’s huge ears with one finger, “So soft.”

“Though the creature does not have to be fluffy, but for some reason humans really enjoy it, despite their own young being hairless. In fact there are many humans that much prefer to have a creature of a different species than they are interested in having one of their own

“Furbaby.” A human whispered as the tiny Tesraki was appropriated back from them.

“My next demonstration we have to thank by way of lord Celzex.”

The humans lifted their heads, eyes widening, “No!”

“YES!”

What came next was an excessive spectacle of human happiness characterized by a lot of squealing from both male and female humans, and a ton of tiny, angry little balls of colored fluff with massive eyes and huge feet.

Dr. Katie sat in a corner holding a handful of the little colored fluff balls in her arms, “Guys….” She moaned, “I think I’m gonna cry, this is pure happiness. I want all of them.”

Maverick lay on the ground flat on her back as at least ten of the tiny creatures crawled all over her. It was pretty clear they were trying to attack, but to the human it caused nothing more than an eruption of giggling.

The commander and Ramirez sat opposite each other trying to wrangle a small heard of the fluffies who ran about in an angry circle.

Needless to say, the humans were very disappointed when they had to be taken away.

Ramirez held out a hand, “Wait, but, no….”

Maverick was frowning looking down at her empty hands like she was missing a finger.

“And now for my last demonstration.” The doctor began.” Motioning his last volunteer up.

What came next was a nine foot tall male Drev, cradling a tiny shape in his lower arms.

Excitedly, the humans rushed over, and the Drev seemed to have no problem handing over his young to the pack of cooing humans.

Maverick bumped Katie out of the way, and took the tiny creature in her arms running away with it across the room.

The other humans trailed after Craning their necks over her shoulder and trying to see the tiny creature who opened its little beak like a baby bird chirping and blinking at them.

“I swear if anything happens to this child I will kill everyone in this room and then myself.”

“I didn’t know they were so frigging adorable. Shit, I want one.” The commander grumbled playing with one of the tiny hands.

“Yeah, who wants a human baby anyway, these ones are way cuter., and they don’t smell.”

“Maverick, if you don't let me hold it, I promise I will have you on bathroom duty for the rest of your foreseeable career.”

Maverick frowned, “Just five more minutes.”

“Fine, five, but then it's my turn.”

The doctor continued to lecture as the humans sat in a circle passing around the tiny drev, “You see in a time of crisis, a human will wrap themselves around their offspring using the rigged bones, and taught muscles of the shoulders, back and ribcage as a shield diffusing impacts and cushioning falls. It is also quite common for an entire pack of humans to form up around younger humans to protect them.”

The commander had appropriated the tiny Drev from Maverick and was softly stroking a thumb against its tiny cheek. The small creature opened its mouth like a baby bird, chirping slightly before nuzzling its head against the human’s chest growing quite comfortable against the warm, soft human.

“Its official, I am the favorite.” The human announced

“But-”

“No no, you see, sleeping, now you can’t take him away.” The other humans pouted and the commander grinned.

“You see it is all thanks to the annoying and underdeveloped nature of the human offspring, that we can thank for human over protectiveness. Now, this effect lessons somewhat as you grow older, but generally speaking it never goes away entirely. A human will bond with anything, a broken piece of equipment, an item of clothing, and definitely you, for sure. Should you be cautious about which humans you trust? Certainly, but we exercise that caution daily with each other.”

He motioned to the group of huddling humans holding the tiny sleeping Drev.

“Just remember this image here the next time some propaganda string tells you humans are monsters.”

#humans are insane #humans are space orcs #humans are space australians #humans are spaceoddities #earth is a deathworld #Earth is space Ausralia

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shroomcult · 3 years

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Hey folks!

Here’s my Day 1 post for Soma Week 2021. Tooth-rotting fluff towards the end - please enjoy. ^-^

@soulxmakaweek

Maka awoke with an audible groan, first registering the lack of her weapon’s familiar soul wavelength in the room before anything else. Whether she was disappointed or grateful of his absence was difficult to determine in her hazy mindstate.

Soul had been fussing over her for the past day, and while his concern for her comfort was endearing - his mother hen routine got old fast.

His over-attentive behavior was at least understandable. He had little to do cooped up in their hotel room, and ended up alternating between watching cooking shows at a considerately low volume, pacing around what little square footage they had, and laying in his bed beside hers tapping out the rhythm to whatever was blaring from his headphones. He was sure to pester her about how she was feeling at least every 20 minutes and his restlessness had been grinding on her last nerve before she fell into a fitful sleep.

If she had to hear “you okay?” or “need anything?” one more time, she was liable to snap and throw the closest object to her directly at his dumb, fluffy head. Not that he actually deserved it.

If she were being honest with herself, she was mostly frustrated with the situation itself - not Soul.

Well, maybe she was a little frustrated with Soul.

He may have been outwardly kind towards her in her predicament, but she could feel something else beneath the surface of that. She was well-versed in the subtle language of Soul’s facial expressions after all.

He was dying to tease her, and while she commended him for keeping his mouth blessedly shut about the humor in her suffering - she knew it amused him at least a little bit.

Because despite the fact that they had been sent to the bustling beach-side city of Recife, Brazil to take down a particularly cunning and repulsive kishin - she was not stuck in bed over any kind of work-related injury inflicted during their battle with the corrupted beast.

There was no glory or dignity that could be gained from the current state of her weakness. She had not received her injuries from a tense and thrilling battle, but instead from being negligent in her application of sunscreen before falling asleep splayed out on a beach towel under the unforgiving afternoon sun.

Soul had even recommended that she apply sunscreen a second time for her “hella pasty” skin and she responded to his comment in kind by throwing the sunscreen bottle at him with impressive accuracy and force.

Now she was bedridden with what was likely sun poisoning and had a complexion comparable to a hot dog.

Perhaps she should have taken Soul’s advice after all.

She also may have reached her last straw with Soul’s smothering behavior earlier and said something along the lines of “please get the hell out of here and give me at least an hour of peace,” before taking her rather unsatisfying nap.

That certainly explained his absence.

She let out a heavy sigh before deciding she would deal with the pain of moving so that she could re-apply aloe vera for the twentieth time that day. Only this was the first time she would be doing it without Soul’s assistance.

It was difficult to reach most areas of her back without him. She was certainly flexible enough to do it on her own, but the pain that came with stretching her arms was something she would prefer to avoid experiencing if possible.

She started on lathering her arms and chest area first, grounding herself in the way it stung yet soothed at the same time.

She only got through a small portion of her back before the combination of fatigue, nausea, and pain convinced her to give it a rest.

Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to just figure out where Soul was. She didn’t need him or anything. She was just checking in - making sure he didn’t get himself into any trouble while she was asleep.

She made an awkward hobble across the room to retrieve her phone, careful to avoid bending her scorched appendages on the way there.

It only took a ring and a half for Soul to pick up her call, and she cursed herself for the way her entire body relaxed a little at the sound of his voice.

“Hey. Everything alright?”

He had that pleasant gravelly quality to his voice that usually indicated he either just woke up or he had a few drinks.

“I’m fine, Soul. I just woke up, actually. What have you been up to?” she’d tried to sound casual, but the hitch in her voice when she tried to lower herself back on to the bed betrayed her. The soft cotton sheets felt like they may as well have been a brillo pad against her sensitive flesh.

“Just givin’ you space like you asked. Found a neat little place to drink just down the road from us. To be honest with you, I think it might be a swinger bar or somethin’ - everyone here is middle aged and horny as hell.”

Maka felt a twinge of irritation at that last comment. Was he really off flirting with a bunch of Brazillian cougars while she was stuck in bed?

“S’not like I’m interested, but they keep buyin’ me drinks anyway. I don’t speak very good Portuguese and they seem to think that’s pretty sexy of me,” he added with a throaty chuckle that raised goosebumps across her skin.

“Why don’t you just stay there all night then! I could care less what you do!!”

She felt a bit childish for her outburst, but blamed it on Soul’s innate ability to push every last button she has in very few words.

“If you don’t care, then why’d ya call me in the first place?” She could just tell that his lip was curling into a smirk by his voice alone. Oh, he is so lucky he’s not in book-throwing distance.

“Just wanted to make sure you weren’t dead in a ditch somewhere,” she murmured with only a little bit of edge left in her.

“Oh yeah? That all?”

“.... Also, I guess you can come back to the hotel room.”

“Sorry? Can you speak up a little?”

“I said you can come back to the hotel room! Don’t make me say it again or you can sleep on the streets!”

He responded with an amused snort, “Oh, that’s very gracious of you. What a loving and benevolent meister I have.”

“Yeah, whatever. Don’t fall in a ditch on your way here.”

“Love ya too, Maka. Be there in a few.”

With that the phone call cut off, and she was left staring at the ceiling and feeling an overwhelming warmth in her face.

She decided to blame that on the sunburn rather than her weapon’s comment.

It only took about 20 minutes before she heard the click of the hotel door as it swung open, her partner poking his head in first and flashing her a shark-toothed smile before he kicked the door open the rest of the way. He was carrying an entire pack of drinks under his arm and a plastic CVS bag in the other.

“Stopped by CVS round the corner. Dunno if you’ll like ‘em, but I got these weird electrolyte drinks. S’posed to help hydrate you better or something,” he said as he plopped down at the end of the bed, emptying the contents of the plastic bag.

“Also got you some ibuprofen, more aloe, and a couple snack things. I know you said you weren’t hungry, but you should really try and eat at least a little bit.”

Maka only nodded, slightly overwhelmed by how caring he was being despite her recently sour attitude.

He tilted his head to the side for a moment, regarding her with gentle eyes before he got up and sat closer to her on the bed, being especially careful not to let his legs touch hers.

He slowly placed the back of his hand against her forehead muttering something about a fever, but she was too focused on his close proximity to her to even register what he was saying. He smelled of beer and limes and sunscreen.

His skin was a perfect bronze color, and he was showing off a lot more of it than he usually did. He was clad only in swim trunks, slider sandals, and a loose-hanging tank top that the top of his scar peeked out of.

He had been out in the sun just as long as she had, napping right beside her even, and yet his skin only tanned; never burned. The lucky bastard.

He used the same hand he’d checked her forehead with to brush back a few stray hairs from her face. “Sleep okay?” he asked in a hushed tone, as if he were worried his voice would bother her.

“I slept okay, I guess. Not much else I can do right now anyways.”

He nodded and gave a sympathetic click of his tongue, running his hand through her hair a few times before reaching for the aloe on the nightstand.

“Need me to get your back?”

She ignored his question, opting to rub the short-cropped silver whiskers covering his jaw with her palm.

“You need to shave.”

He rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated huff, squeezing the tube of aloe into his palms and rubbing them together.

“I’ll just take that as a yes and pretend you think I’m roguishly handsome.”

That earned him a laugh from her that clipped short when he placed his hands softly on her back. It only hurt for the first brief moment of contact, but she soon hummed her approval as the stinging sensation in her back felt dulled and soothed wherever his hands caressed her.

He was talented with his hands - knew just the right amount of pressure to give and take at each moment. She really had needed this. Trying to reach that spot between her shoulder blades on her own had been a nightmare.

Minutes passed with only the sounds of their breath and Soul’s practiced hands over her skin. It should have been awkward, but it wasn’t. Everything was just easy with him.

“Hey, Soul?”

He acknowledged her with a noncommittal grunt.

“Thank you. I know I haven’t exactly been pleasant lately, but I really do appreciate all of your help.”

She wanted to say more, it felt as though she hadn’t really expressed to him how much he means to her, but Soul wasn’t one for flowery words and declarations of love. She knew that was enough of a thanks for him.

“You don’t gotta thank me for all that, Maka. We’re partners, this is what we do for each other.”

“Right,” she whispered, a faint smile gracing her lips.

“All done,” he announced, “you gonna hang tight and read for a bit?”

“No - I’d like to, but I just feel too tired and nauseous to focus on anything like that right now. Maybe I’ll just try to take another nap.”

Without a word, he sauntered over to the book she had brought - a period-piece romance novel that he would make fun of at the first given opportunity. After it was in his grasp, he collapsed on his back right next to her. He really did kind of reek of beer, but she didn’t have the heart to push him away.

Once he found her bookmarked spot, he started from the top of the page with a hardy clear of his throat, reading the lead male love interest’s lines in the most posh and ridiculous accent she could have imagined.

She immediately burst into an uncontrollable fit of giggles and snorts, which only encouraged him to continue, smiling from ear to ear as he did.

She nearly ran out of breath when he began reading the female heroine’s dialogue in a shrill voice that sounded more like an old British nanny than a pretty young woman.

He continued this entertainment for an admirable hour and a half before he had to admit that his vocal cords were defeated from the strain of ‘fancy British lady voice.’

By the time he had put the book aside, she had a hand curled around his bicep and her face was buried in his neck.

He’d said he was watching TV, but he fell asleep within 10 minutes of setting her book down much like an old man.

Her skin felt dry and tight, a feeling she was easily able to ignore while Soul was reading for her. She was aware that she’d need to get up soon to re-apply aloe, or she’d regret it later. Yet, it was so difficult to move away from him.

He was breathing deeply, and he smelled less like a bar and more like a beach the closer she was to him. He always looked so peaceful when he slept too. He looked young, like he didn’t carry the exhaustion that he usually does.

Despite the calm, collected demeanor he always tried to hold around others - he carried a lot of weight on his shoulders from pretending to be the person that other people need him to be. From taking the load off other people’s backs, he only strained himself and she felt this tiredness from it all that seeped into the very cracks of his soul.

She wished he didn’t have to try so hard all the time. She wished he could let himself be taken care of for once.

“I know you told me before that I don’t need to thank you. That the things you do for me are what I should expect from a partner, but you really are more than that to me, Soul,” she’d only whispered this into the crook of his neck, but she lifted her head up just to check that he was still unconscious.

He appeared serene, his breathing steady and not a crinkle in his face to indicate her words had disturbed him from his slumber.

“You can always depend on me too. I’d love to take care of you the way you take care of me. You deserve that - you know that, right?”

Not even a twitch.

She sighed, not expecting him to respond in the first place, but a little disappointed she hadn’t had the courage to tell him this while he was awake. She assumed it safe that he was in a deep sleep and began threading her fingers through his thick tufts of hair sticking up from his forehead.

“I know that when you say you love me, you’re talking about as a partner, as a friend. Well, I love you too. I love you a lot, Soul. I’m always afraid to say it back ... because it would carry a different weight when I say it. It’s like I’m afraid you’d just know.”

His breath hitched for a moment and her heart nearly jumped into her throat.

He only readjusted slightly, pressing his cheek against the top of her head and making a small sound akin to a whimper before his breathing evened out again.

She let out the shaky breath she had been holding and turned her head ever so slightly to press a soft kiss to his throat, where she could feel the warmth of his pulse.

“I hope we stay partners for a really long time.”

#SoMaWeek2021 #SoulxMakaweek #soul evans #maka albarn #soul eater

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juminly · 4 years

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A Losing Game

Summary: A bet was made between Arthur & Theodorus: the mystery writer was not allowed to flirt with you for an entire month. Arthur is not one to back down from a challenge. However, he had no idea what was at stake. Matchup story written for @dandellien. 💙

Nobody ever said anything about the exhaustion you would feel when travelling through time. Whatever happened when you went through that door, it clearly drained all of the energy from your body. You were hungry, thirsty, had a huge headache and were craving sleep. Comte had seen the look on your face when you had arrived, apparitions of dark circles forming around your eyes, more than enough proof that you did need to rest and be cared for.

While the pureblood accompanied you to your room, giving you but a glimpse of what you would face in the 19th century, being in a mansion filled with unknown men, you were evidently soothed by his graceful and eloquent demeanor, putting you at ease even though he had insinuated that the residents were not normal men. Not normal was a light way to put it because they were far from normal in more ways that you expected.

Historical figures that you knew quite well, seen them in history books, math, physics or even science books. You were already familiar with vampires, the myth and the fantasy of these creatures warped around multitude of novels, movies and various forms of art. Surprised, yes you were. Scared, not necessarily. You would have to wait and see things with your own eyes before judging and assessing the matter. How true could it be? You were beginning to wonder why did you even end up in such a place? Were you struck by some goddess of Fortune or was this a curse that you were damned to survive somehow?

Sebastian had already set up a light yet scrumptious supper for you and had drawn a nice warm bath for you to relax your body before actually realizing where you were and what kind of situation you were in, once you came face first with the reality of the matter. Theory was so much easier to take than reality. Anyone might have thought that they were simply trying to woo you into staying and keeping your mouth shut about what you’ve seen but they were clearly good people, no malicious intent detected in either Sebastian or Comte. But what about the others? After your bath, Sebastian was kind enough to sit by you and answer any questions you may have since he was the only human in the vampire-filled mansion and he graciously answered all the questions you had, especially about the other residents.

Were you prepared for what was to come? You probably didn’t have an answer but a tiny little messenger came to your rescue. At the crack of dawn, you could hear barking at your door. Sebastian didn’t tell you anything about dogs, let alone pets being around so this was an interesting way to start your day. Opening the door, you found the cutest little dog looking up at you with big brown eyes that you simply couldn’t resist. Picking him up in your arms and scratching his chin (earning you quite a few licks), you had already gotten enough sleep so you took it as an opportunity to roam around and discover more about the mansion before the other residents woke up.

You obviously had no idea who the little cutie in your arms belonged to so it was fair enough to say that you were not really snooping around the mansion but actually trying to find the dog’s owner, if anyone were to stop you in your tracks and question why you were walking around in the middle of the night. As you passed by the different hallways and peeked into different rooms, you came across the different rooms and areas of the mansion, jotting down the different pieces of information in the back of your head for future reference: you came across the library and found a tall man slouched on a pile of books, sleeping soundly with the sweet scent wafting through the air; a slender man with an eyepatch who greeted you meekly in the hallway before scurrying away, another man playing the piano with beautiful silver hair, the sharpest amethyst eyes and a glare that demanded he be left alone, without using any words. Going back to the conversation you had with Sebastian, those were Leonardo, Jean and Mozart. One thing they all had in common: they were all very handsome. Extremely so.

After exploring almost every part of the mansion, you already found out where the kitchen, the pantry, the thermae, the dining room were including other rooms where the other residents used. You found yourself standing in front of, what most probably was, the main door of the mansion. Your small new friend began barking and whining, seemingly telling you in his own language that he wanted to go out but you couldn’t possibly do that. You didn’t have the owner’s permission nor did you have a leash. A resounding playful voice came from behind you with an unmistakable lilting British accent, his words echoing through the mansion’s entrance with each click of his oxfords on the grand stairs, closing the distance between you.

“Oh dear! It seems that Vic’s brimming excitement couldn’t be held back at the scent of our new beautiful guest. If I may be so bold, I should admit that I raise Vic to be quite a fine little champ. He certainly does have an eye for beauty.” Turning around, your eyes were locked on this man’s handsome features, his tousled midnight blue hair, striking blue eyes and the beauty mark so delicately positioned by his lips, you couldn’t help but take in his appearance as he had gotten much closer, now standing before you. The smirk on his lips was also very telling, he had been assessing you in the same manner. Little did you know, He heard you talking to yourself in spanish while walking through the corridors, doing your own exploring of the mansion and he came to you like a moth to a windowpane. How could he even miss the sight, the smell and the voice of a fair maiden such as yourself walking in her lonesome in this mansion full of mongrels? They were not but he would’ve loved to take advantage of sweeping a cute poppet like you off her feet. Your hair was that of iridescent flames, cascades of lava that drew him in, dark eyes of coffee. “Comte was ever so gracious to inform me that we had a guest in our midst but he had made the grave mistake of omitting the fact that you were such a resplendent poppet. Allow me to introduce myself, love.”

He was absolutely beguiled by you, even more so when you began to speak, addressing him in a firm tone, interrupting his introduction in the mere pause as he took a break. “Arthur Conan Doyle, I know who you are. Sebastian told me all about you.” He seemed pleased to know that you already heard of him but still wished that he could be the one to make his first impression on his own, without having others establish them for him. You were not taken aback by his direct approach, yet his flirtiness did not click too well with you since he had yet to know you before even trying to seemingly romance you in the way he did with all the women he had clearly done the same with. You definitely said what was on your mind, stating it clearly before making your way back to your room since Vic was now with his owner. “If you’re trying to flirt with me, then I’m sorry but you’re mistaken if you think that you can do anything of the sort. If you may excuse me now, I must go ready myself before breakfast.”

It would be safe to say that Arthur was admittedly smitten with you. The way you smoothly yet respectfully talked back to him with that accent of yours was undoubtedly a beautiful sound that he would love to hear more and more of.

During breakfast, you had finally met all the residents at once and the Comte had obviously taken it upon him to introduce you to them all before the conversation on the dining table naturally flowed from unrelated conversation between a couple of the residents, where the rest simply listened in and back to questions about you, where you came from, your background and most importantly, your time. When the amount of questions seemed to get a bit too overwhelming, Leonardo was the one who spoke up, telling the rest of the vampires that they had plenty of time to ask you all the questions they wanted over the course of the month that you had to spend with them.

As you and Sebastian busied yourselves in clearing the dishes from the table, you could hear a booming brouhaha coming from the room where you had left the rest of the vampires. Looking at the stoic butler, he simply shrugged and you busied yourself by helping the man. On the other side of the man, the residents were all focused on a discussion that happened between the infamous partners in crime: Theodorus van Gogh and Arthur Conan Doyle. Theo noticed how uncharacteristically silent Arthur was during breakfast, sipping on his glass of Blanc while his eyes never left you for a moment, as you bit into your pancakes and drank your coffee/tea, a small smile cracking on your face here and then, noticing the little things that you did. With a wolfish grin, Theo made a bet with Arthur. If the writer is able to spend an entire month without flirting with you, the sadistic entrepreneur would pay for their tab at their go-to tavern/bar for an entire year. Arthur knew what his friend was trying to do, clearly testing him and seeing if he had an ounce of self-control in him. The game was on.

He would clearly prove him wrong. Or that’s what he thought. Two years instead of one and the deal was made.

It wasn’t hard for you to find what to do in that time. The wealth of knowledge that was surrounding you, it was more than enough to fill your days with activities and studying the things that you loved the most. Leonardo and Vincent were more than happy to give you tips on drawing, giving you tips on how to sketch the human body, understanding the intricacies behind different body types in a way that allowed you also to work on fashion, different styles, looks which is something you really loved.

Spending time on your own was not a hard task! There were so many corners in the mansion where you can just spend time alone with no one bothering you. You would often find Leonardo sleeping or reading in the library, stumbling across him or he’s just napping away wherever you find yourself but that didn’t really bother you. You would grab your notebook to write or draw or grab a book that one of the residents had recommended to you and just clear your mind and wind down, finding some much needed peace in the midst of this new lifestyle that you were thrown into.

Arthur though… the man couldn’t really stay away from you. Not that he did want to, on the contrary, he absolutely loved being in the presence of an enlightened woman such as yourself but he had to take extra care not to be flirty with you. One thing that Arthur didn’t do was lose. Unfortunately yet luckily for him, Vic took a liking to you and made it easier for you to get to know each other better when you would both take him on walks, daily and multiple days in a day. He was a spoiled boy and his Master was definitely the type to spoil him rotten. It was quite refreshing just seeing a different type of playful side to him. Pure, genuine and truly affectionate. Even… boyish.

[The famous skirt chaser wasn’t doing any chasing. Whenever he wasn’t around, he was trying to get enough writing done so he could spend time with the beautiful new guest who only had a month to spend with him… everyone AND him.]

You are usually so reserved around the residents, more of an observer than a talker, at least for the first few days in the mansion. Your frequent walks with Vic and Arthur did help you loosen up: getting to know more about Paris as you roamed around aimlessly, taken away by the depth of your conversations, the ways of the 19th century, all the little tidbits about the residents and also, see more of Arthur, besides the renown flirty playboy side, a label that everyone seems to be pinning on the handsome man. When you get deep into discussions with him, the way you get animated makes him melt. He doesn’t blatantly point it out but there is this glint of amusement and fondness in his eyes and the slightest twist in the corner of his lips, one of absolute admiration and infatuation when you do.

There is never a dull moment with Arthur: his mind is like the most intriguing, bewildering and mysterious place to be. He would try to tell you about how he comes up with the premise of his stories, would talk to you about the ideas of his books and how he gets inspired by things from his past and from his present, take you out on “dates” where you would go detective-solving… cause what better way to discover Paris and know everything there was to know about it.

He was very fond of your objectivity and honesty which definitely compliments the analytical side of your personality which he has come to see and know the more he spoke with you and from what he’s heard from Leonardo. He secretly loves your honesty also when you call him out on his shit: on why he even hates his own creations, knowing that there is hidden meanings behind whatever bogus response he gives you YET you don’t push him for more. You just let him know that he can talk to you.

In those moments, the fierceness in your eyes…he knew that it would be his demise.

He likes to pick your brain and keeps bombarding you with so many “what ifs”, possibilities and probabilities in deflecting and divergent plotlines in his stories until you end up digressing and not even discussing important elements that are crucial and necessary about his manuscripts. You always made things interesting which made him spend even more time with you, always attempting to monopolize your time in any way he can. Especially when you told him that something like MBTI personalities existed in your time, he was very interested in knowing so much more about it. You and also Sebastian jumped in to tell him all about it and his eyes lit up like firecrackers, already thinking of which characters would have which personality. He couldn’t help but feel closer to you, wanting to know you even more...intimately yet he denied himself from doing so. Yet, he couldn’t stop the kindling of affection within his heart, no matter how much he tried to push it away.

The fact that you had even more hidden talents made you even more attractive in his eyes. You knew how to play multiple instruments and didn’t care to tell him until… 2 weeks had passed since you arrived at the mansion. Arthur immediately worked his magic on Mozart somehow, getting him to teach you how to play the piano if you wanted to and had Leonardo prepare a little something special for you: a hand-crafted guitar that you could take with you when you decide to go back to the future (and the thought of you leaving saddened him so much but he didn’t dare say it, yet, the expression on his face said it all). If there is anything Arthur would be good at, and after keeping the resident devil company, persuading, convincing or bribing was an art that he had perfected. Quick-witted charmer that he was.

The sound of his boyish laughter was something that you couldn’t get enough of and that wide smile that stretched from ear to ear was absolutely the most beautiful expression that you’ve seen on him, complimenting his features in a way that suited him even more than that flirtatious mask he hides behind. He loves the look on your face when he can read your mind and knows exactly what you’re going to say before you even say it, when he teases you and especially when he’s able to draw a smile on your face: be it when he thanks you for helping brainstorm or solve a case, or when he buys you a yummy treat that he knows you’d love and enjoy (after forcing Sebastian to tell him the things you actually do enjoy eating since he had information (notes) about every single living being in than mansion. He was a goldmine, source of intel and Arthur wasn’t going to miss out on taking advantage of that fact).

Something exciting did happen, which you also didn’t expect! A trip to Madrid in Spain? It is one of the cities that is most known for it’s art and Theodorus was in need of a translator to accompany him so he can find his way around the city much easier than if he was alone (and you were also not bad company so he wouldn’t mind you tagging along, since he knows that you would appreciate the art as well, being an artist yourself.) BUT, Arthur was not having any of it. How was a young lady supposed to travel with another (very single and very handsome) man on her own? He decided to be the chaperone of your trip under the guise of exploring new avenues for an upcoming book of his that will possibly have events set in Spain (or maybe not, it didn’t even matter). Theo reminded his best friend about their bet/challenge and… well, the entrepreneur knew and told the klootzak right to his face that he’s weasling his way into this because… Well, Arthur shushed him before he could say any more than that but they both knew what he was going to say. The mystery writer wanted to wait until you left the 19th century before even thinking of admitting to others and to himself too.

After a long train ride from Paris to Madrid, Arthur made sure to book the room next to yours in case you needed anything. When you woke up in the morning, he would already be leaning next to your door with that wide boyish smile of his and his lilting “Good morning sunshine~” that evidently did things to your heart, escorting you to have breakfast together. Theo would show up to breakfast with his own bottle of syrup (Don’t even mention it. He had a feeling that he wouldn’t find the kind of syrup he liked in Spain so he got his own with him). The man was completely baffled to always find you there before him and also annoyed to see how sickeningly sweet Arthur was, doting on you a little more than he ever saw him do with any of the other skirts he’s ever pursued. This is not the normal kind of attention he gave a woman and as his best friend, this proved how deep Arthur had already fallen for you. He did throw in a few comments such as: “ Why are you treating her like a small pup? She can take care of herself. Unless she asked you to put her on a leash…”

If you thought you had fun in Paris, it was even more fun in Madrid! You went to multiple museums, galleries and countless restaurants, indulging both in the savoury and sweet of the city, getting the best taste of the city. It was hilarious seeing Arthur trying to communicate with the locals with that British accent of his and try to use whatever Spanish he caught from your brief discussions with Leonardo (where he thought he managed to catch a few words but he was horribly mistaken). You also somehow managed to get lost while going shopping, which made your time out and about together even longer. Not that either of you was complaining. You both had the time of your life and you both had smiles to match and confirm that statement.

Besides the fact that Arthur wouldn’t let go of your hand at any given moment when you were wandering the city, claiming that he wouldn’t find his way back to the hotel without you and that you were the only one that could keep him from getting lost. He also didn’t like how lots of men’s eyes lingered on you whenever they spoke to you (and the fact that he didn’t even understand what they were telling you didn’t bear well with him, he wasn’t having it at all) or just simply when you passed by and turned heads. This man was definitely not jealous (sarcasm) but he was not blind and he had eyes of his own to see just how beautiful you were, inside and out. He was just glad to be the one holding your hand, even though he held on to it “just as your friend”. Whenever Theo looked disgruntled and rolled his eyes at you two, Arthur always teased him and offered to hold his hand too if he didn’t want to feel left out, making the dutch man obviously grumble and walk away from you.

He should’ve known… He should’ve known and he beat himself over it, cursing his gloves as you were on the train, on the way back to France. While Arthur had excused himself to the restroom and decided to go get the three of you some coffee and treats, he comes back to find that you had fallen asleep… with your head on Theodorus’ shoulder. He was definitely not happy about the sight and his best friend could definitely see that, muttering a “Stop glaring at me like a rabid dog, klootzak. I don’t like this either.” Arthur stopped in his tracks, noticing how flushed your cheeks were and how your breathing was a little quicker than normal for someone who was asleep. Removing one of his gloves, he presses his palm against your forehead and your neck. You had a fever.

Arthur immediately gets into anxious doctor mode and tends to you however he can until you reach Paris, where he would be able to take care of you even better. Theo knew that this was not just some act. Arthur’s concern for you was real but it was way more than just a doctor’s oath to take care of his patients. Come on, Arthur. Who do you think you’re deceiving? He basically carried you to the carriage and also inside the mansion, giving out orders as nicely and calmly to Sebastian the moment he set foot in the mansion. He was composed, or at least, tried to be but he was also worried. A fever from exhaustion should not be taken lightly as it can turn into something worse if you didn’t get all the rest that you truly needed.

When you woke up…

Opening your eyes slowly, you blinked only to find Arthur leaning on the side of your bed. “Why are you here? It looks like you haven’t slept for ages, Arthur.” You reached out and threaded yours fingers through his tousled hair. “I know you’re worried about me, Arthur. I promise you I’ll be just fine. I know you’ve been taking good care of me and you know… It’s just exhaustion, right? There’s nothing for you to worry about it. I already feel much better thanks to you.”

The expression on his face was so soft and tender, a “wistful” smile drawn on his usually smirked lips. He held your hand, rubbing his leather-clad thumb smoothly over it before he kissed your knuckles gently. “Rest well, my love. I refuse to leave your side.” He bit the tip of his index, pulling out his glove from his other hand and leaned and reached to check your temperature, before leaning forward to press his lips against your forehead, sighing. “You’re still a tad warm but you are indeed better. I should’ve taken your word for it.”

“And should I take your word that you kissed me just because you wanted to check my temperature?”

With that irresistible boyish smile drawn on his handsome face, he chuckled like a schoolboy that has just been caught doing something wrong. That’s how he truly was deep down and it was refreshing just seeing him like that. “Guilty as charged.” His striking blue eyes locked on yours before faltering a little too long on your lips as he licked his own and whispered softly - “I may have ulterior motives but I assure you, my intentions are as pure as they come.” - before capturing your lips in a much awaited kiss, so sweet and tender, pouring all the affection he ached to show you before, all the pent-up emotions he strained himself not to show you in his quest in being a good friend to you.

Arthur didn’t come out of that challenge a loser, but a winner. Getting the greatest prize… no, the most priceless thing he could ever ask for: you and your love. Although it cost him a bill of 2 years worth of alcohol expenses at the bar, he was more than happy to pay it.

This man will shower you with words of affection all day long, tell you he loves you, kiss you whenever he gets the chance, in public or in private, this man is absolutely taken by you and he doesn’t even mind it. He will call you: love, darling, my lovely poppet, my sunshine and even try to throw in a few Spanish pet names: cariña, mi amor and even mi sol. You always wondered why he always referred to you as his sun or sunshine but he told you that you brightened up his life, with your honesty, your intelligence and most importantly, the joy you brought into his life.

You were surprised to discover that Arthur was BIG on cuddling. There isn’t a night that goes by (or even a nap) without cuddling. It is not for naughty reasons, as opposed to what everyone else in the mansion might think, but more for reassurance that you will always stay by his side and leave. His worst nightmare is waking up and not finding you there, the day you realize that he’s not good enough of a man for you yet he will spend his every waking moment trying to be better for you, prove that he is more than what his reputation paints him to be. He is the man that loves you, cherished you and values you even more than his own writing.

Arthur does get quite jealous sometimes. He just can’t help it. For example: he gets jealous when you sometimes get all dreamy when you listen to Mozart composing. He’s one of the biggest figures in music history so it would only be natural for you to be in awe whenever you came across him. His music does help you with your writing especially when he plays very calm tunes. It’s nothing like anything you’ve experienced before and it’s so inspiring. Arthur would frown, pout and even sulk sometimes whenever he sees that another man has captured your attention in a way that he never could (and he looks absolutely adorable when he does, like a lost whiny puppy). He would wrap his arms around you and nuzzle you when you’re writing or simply rub his hand softly on your waist while he rests his head on yours or on your shoulder. He scrambles for ways to get part of your attention or get some reassurance from you without getting in your way or becoming an inconvenience.

Kisses of affection: your knuckles, your hand and your forehead.

Warning: NSFW ahead

His kinks: everything in the book. Anything you can imagine, he’s willing to do with you. If you don’t like it, he’s up to trying the next thing with you. But a few favourites of his are: cockwarming, roleplay, edging, overstimulation, edging, BDSM and body worship. Rest assured that he will ALWAYS keep things interesting between you.

Favourite place to bite you: your thighs.

He can be whatever you want him to be in bed, he is a switch after all. He’ll worship you endlessly when he’s in command and will whine and beg for you whenever you take the reins. All he wants is to be with you, it doesn’t matter how.

You are definitely the luckiest person in the mansion, ending up with the most versatile and open lover of them. He’s willing to do everything with you, and driven by his lust and love for you, he will dirty talk until you’re soaking wet and clenching around nothing in anticipation for him and sweet talk you to tears, overwhelming you with the sweetness of love.

#ikevamp arthur #ikemen vampire arthur #ikevamp arthur conan doyle #ikemen vampire arthur conan doyle #ikevamp fluff #ikemen vampire fluff #ikemen vampire fanfic #ikevamp fanfic #ikemen vampire headcanons #ikevamp headcanons #ikevamp matchup #ikemen vampire matchup #ikemen series #otome #cybird

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a-libra-writes · 3 years

Text

Salt & Snow - Chapter 5

Ships: Ned Stark x Reader, Brandon Stark x Reader

Summary: The daughter of House Caspian begins to realize her place in a world of strict tradition and hierarchy. A tragedy strikes Winterfell, bringing her closer to the Starks.

The brush slid across the thick paper, making a beautifully straight line. The black paint was bold against the paper, which wasn’t completely white, but it was the closest she’d seen, almost as white as snow. What a wonderful birthday gift. Y/N had a thin wooden palette that she perched on her lap, allowing her to take the paper anywhere and paint what she saw. She already had ideas of what to send Ned, although transporting a painting without damaging it would be troublesome. Maybe it was best to just keep it in Winterfell until he came back? He had to return soon, he was seventeen. It had to be soon.

It’s what Lyanna talked about often, and Y/N didn’t blame her. She wanted him back too, though maybe for different reasons. She was pleased he still kept writing to her, entertaining her childish whims, although she didn’t feel childish anymore. They didn’t talk about ‘childish’ topics, either, it was always… all sorts of things. Y/N could write to Ned about anything on her mind, and he did the same.

I hope we can talk as easily. What if he comes back and I don’t know what to say? Y/N wondered if that was a silly thought. She refocused on her painting, dabbing a small brush into the paints she’d set up beside her. There weren’t many colors to work with, but that made it an interesting challenge. The training yard was busy this late, so she had plenty of subjects to observe. Painting moving figures was a new challenge. It wouldn’t be a perfect still life, instead, she’d try her own composition of movement and action.

Y/N hummed to herself as she worked. She had only two hours before the sun would set, but she was confident she could finish the rest of it in her room.

“Don’t most girls paint flower fields and vases?”

“I’m a lady,” Y/N responded. She didn’t look up from her painting right away, wanting to finish a few more brush strokes. “You should always be gracious to a lady, especially if you’re a future ‘Lord Stark’.”

Brandon grinned. “I was going to scare you, but I decided to be nice instead. That’s very gracious, I think.”

Now you sound like your little brother. Y/N set her brush down next to the paints. She observed Brandon was still in his traveling clothes. “When did you return?”

“Just over an hour ago. It was a slow ride, Ser Roderick wouldn’t let me go ahead of the escort.”

“There’s a reason for that.” Y/N smiled at his impatience. “How was the Rills?”

“The same as always. Next week I’m going to see Lord Manderly. While I’m there, I could stop by your family’s castle. Perhaps I could bring a gift to them.”

“That would be wonderful. You know they would love to have your company, my lord.”

Brandon’s smile was infectious, Y/N had to admit. Thank the gods he was over that irritating phase he had before, acting like he was too grown-up and superior to bother with Y/N and his younger siblings. Well, he could still be irksome to Benjen and Lyanna, but they paid him back tenfold with their usual mischief. Y/N was just pleased he acted like the lord he should be around her. Pleasantries made things easier, and it really would be kind of him to bring her father a pelt or her mother a rare book.

Right now, he was leaning over to see what she was painting, as he’d often been doing the past year. She knew he had no interest in art, but he still made a point to ask about what she was working on.

It’s good for him to at least feign interest and learn about others. Maybe all those scoldings from Lord and Lady Stark are finally sinking in. Y/N thought. She showed him what she’d been working on, groups of men at swordplay. “They’re finally used to my sketching, I think. At first they gave me peculiar looks.”

“It’s because you were staring.” That charming smile turned to an amusing pout. “You shouldn’t be staring at strange men, Y/N, or drawing them.”

“They aren’t strange at all! I know their names, and they’re sworn men, besides. Are you just upset I haven’t drawn you?”

She was teasing like Lyanna and Benjen did, but he didn’t respond like she thought. Brandon actually huffed. “Better me than some old guardsman.”

“Sit down, then.” Y/N gestured to the seat next to her on the bench, the side not covered in paints and paper. “Portraits are always good practice.”

Brandon looked at the spot, only waiting a moment before taking a seat. He was still windblown from the road, smelling like horses and leather, but it wasn’t too unpleasant. Y/N fought the urge to smooth out his hair — it was such a mess, but he wasn’t a boy. Even Benjen was getting too old for her fussing.

“So you know, I’m not the sort to embellish.” Y/N said, her hand darting across a blank piece of paper. Messy sketches were fine for something like this. “So I will be drawing that unruly hair and those red ears.”

“They aren’t red,” Brandon grumbled and rubbed at the ears in question.

Y/N didn’t look up from her drawing. “They are. So are your cheeks. Are you cold?”

“I’d be a poor Stark if weather like this got me cold. Shouldn’t you be concentrating?”

“I am.” Y/N had to glance up to make sure the eye shape was right. Brandon had such an amusing expression, it was making her work difficult. “If you could be still, it would be easier.”

Brandon said nothing to that, only furrowing his brows further. It was startling how much he looked like Lord Stark, while Lyanna took after her mother. Benjen was a clear mix of the two, but all of them had that long face and dark coloring. She pictured Ned’s face in her mind, trying to remember the last time she saw him. Gods, was that three years ago? Maybe four? He must look so different now. Taller, with a proper sword and the skills to back it up - and what about those grey eyes? Would they be darker or lighter? Did he finally cut that brown hair, to better fit in with the Eyrie, or did he keep it long and Northern?

“What are you smiling about?” Brandon asked.

“Oh, nothing.” Y/N said Someone in the distance drew her attention away, which she was grateful for. She waved at him. “Ben!”

Brandon scowled at his little brother walked up. Benjen was already taller than Y/N, thanks to his spindly limbs. He looked around at the art supplies and Brandon’s awkward posture. “I hate it say it, but you’d be better off with a different subject, Y/N. There’s only so much you can do with this one.”

Benjen dodged out of the way of his older brother’s grip. His reflexes were nothing to sneeze at. “Big words from a skinny rat!” Brandon said, getting up to grab at his brother again, but Benjen was too quick. The older Stark may have been as big as his father now, but he had a certain … lack of grace. No doubt he was tired from the trip, too.

“Should I use smaller words?” Benjen easily danced around him.

“Do this somewhere else!” Y/N laughed. That was the end of the little sitting session, then. Brandon couldn’t be still after getting riled up; he was like a dog in that way. “Be careful, would you?”

“I’m just going to teach him a lesson—!” Brandon said, finally getting Benjen in his grasp. He cursed when his brother easily twisted out of his grip and hit his nose. It wasn’t a real punch, but it still hurt, and Brandon shook his head while Benjen unhooked his sword from his belt.

“Thanks!” Benjen scurried off, carrying the sword that was too heavy for him to actually wield. Y/N rolled her eyes at how Brandon predictably ran after him with a fresh new string of curses. He had only been home a few hours before he was going back to silliness with his brother. Lyanna would have joined in too, had she been here. Their latest pasttime was stealing the beautiful new sword Brandon was so proud of. Benjen just liked to stir up trouble, but Lyanna was sour she couldn’t have steel of her own.

What has she been doing today? Y/N hadn’t seen much of her friend today. Lyanna didn’t enjoy the last feast, which was a small affair - only half a dozen families were there, and not all their members - but she was still put off. Y/N hadn’t known Lyanna to retire before her, but that night, she did. It was usually the fatigued Lady Stark that was the early departure, not her fiery daughter.

Thinking about it now, Lyanna was unusually quiet through breakfast this morning, and she had been riding most of the day. Y/N considered that maybe she should have gone with her, even if being near a horse still made her shudder. She could have at least sat on the edge of the riding field and watched Lyanna. Maybe she wanted to be alone. If she really wanted me there, I know she would have dragged me.

With all her art supplies carefully packed up, Y/N returned to the castle and planned to find out what Lyanna’s mood was. I could be overthinking everything. We’re women now, four and ten years, we don’t have to cling about each other anymore.

Y/N nodded to the servants and guards when she saw them, giving a smile to those she knew well. They had long been familiar, pleasant faces that she relied upon. It recently occurred to Y/N that she knew them better than the servants of Whitetide, whose faces were rapidly disappearing from her memory. Maybe if her parents didn’t visit twice or thrice a year, and if she didn’t love them so much, she’d begin to lose their faces, too.

Their shared bedchamber was warm from a low-burning fire in the hearth. Y/N set her supplies down on her desk before shedding her thick cloak. It was fastened with a lovely silver manta ray that had a tiny pearl for an eye, a gift from Lady Stark herself. Y/N’s name day had passed a few months ago, and while her parents couldn’t visit, her second family was right there beside her. Lady Stark’s hands had become pale and thin, but she still wanted to fasten the pin herself after presenting it to Y/N. Then she patted her head like adults did to children, but Y/N couldn’t mind it.

Y/N was so caught up in turning the little manta ray in her hands, she didn’t hear the bedroom door open and close. The stomping of feet made her jump, and she swiveled to see Lyanna yanking off her riding boots and shaking the snow off them in the most unladylike way.

“So you were riding all day,” Y/N said, setting the pin into her modest jewelry box. She offered a smile. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

Lyanna didn’t respond right away. She pulled at her cloak instead, tossing it on one of the chairs by the hearth. Y/N’s smile fell. There was an obvious dark cloud around her friend. Lyanna kicked her boots aside and huffed as she sank into an overstuffed chair. She was becoming too leggy to curl up into it like a child.

“Why in the seven hells can I not wear riding trousers?” She said irritably. “I’m sure the washerwomen are sick of cleaning the smell out of my dresses.”

Y/N sat in the chair across from her, settling herself into it. “And the horsehair.”

“It itches terribly. If I had a tunic, it wouldn’t be so bothersome, nor would the branches in my way.” Lyanna picked a leaf off her sleeve. Trouble was brewing in her grey eyes. There was fire in them even without the hearth lighting her face, a natural energy that possessed her entire person. Lyanna was more wolf than any of them, and when she hunched in the chair with her long legs drawn to her chest, she looked like a trapped one.

Y/N waited for her to speak first. There was something on her friend’s mind, but she had to find the words. Once she had them, Lyanna said, “You weren’t bothered at that feast. The last one, with the Karstarks and Glovers and Cassels.”

It was strange for her to bring it up now, but Y/N had just been thinking about it as well. Overall, Y/N would dare to say she enjoyed herself, even if the Karstark boys were too blunt in their desire to dance with her.

“I wasn’t too bothered. It wasn’t as crowded as it usual; I could hear the music for once. I was able to dance for a while, and the lords and their sons behaved.” Y/N didn’t know what else to say. “You left early. You didn’t want to dance?”

“Of course not!” Lyanna responded so sharply, it startled her old friend. “Why would I? Why would you?”

Y/N had no idea what Lyanna meant by that. That embarrassing dance with Roose Bolton a year ago had made her self-conscience of how clumsy her movements were. Lady Stark was delighted that Y/N took an interest in learning grace and how to carry herself better; and didn’t it make sense to test it out? Now that she didn’t overthink the steps, she could enjoy the exercise and the music. The company was good, and when she was tired, she japed around with Benjen and little Jory.

With all those racing thoughts, Y/N simply said, “I enjoy dancing, if that’s what you mean. What’s the matter with that?”

Lyanna shook her head, her brown hair falling farther out of a braid that was already coming undone. She’d lost another set of silk hair ribbons. “I don’t know how you stand it. You’re just a prize to them, you know, a bauble. You shouldn’t even amuse them. Neither of us should.”

“Who are you talking about?”

“The men! The lords or their sons, whichever! We’re just stupid little brides to them. Didn’t you notice them looking at you? Shoving their sons at you? Lord Karstark had them all lined up! And even if they’re married, they’ll leer!”

“That’s… that’s ridiculous, Lyanna,” Y/N stammered. “Where did this come from?”

“Y/N, we’re women grown now!” Lyanna was bursting with energy and frustration that she couldn’t get out fast enough. “My mother married at six and ten! It’s nearly time for us, time for arrangements! Soon every lord will be nibbling at my father’s heels to take me off his hands, and no doubt your own lord father has received letters from all the ones you danced with.”

“Lyanna. Did someone tell you something?” Y/N asked. She was already trying to avoid thinking of the future, and Lyanna had never discussed it with her. She thought her friend didn’t think of it at all. “Before you, Brandon will marry, and that hasn’t even been discussed.”

“Of course it has! Why would they tell us? They can marry me off without finding him a bride, and without asking what I think.” Her cheeks were burning with red anger now. “I’m a Stark, so I can’t stay in the North. They’ll send me away somewhere — somewhere South, because where else? I’ll have to leave Winterfell, while my brothers and everyone I love stay!”

Y/N went to Lyanna, taking her hands in her own. She squeezed them tight. “Where did all this come from? Have your parents been talking?”

“No one needs to tell me. It’s the truth, isn’t it?” Lyanna said, looking Y/N right in the eyes. “That’s what we’ve got to look forward to, Y/N. The feasts aren’t meant to be fun for us. Maybe for the men, but not for us. We’re there to be picked and chosen, like prize fillies.”

Lyanna squeezed their hands tight, so tight it hurt right away. She stared at Y/N’s clean nails and smooth palms. Except for the occasional smudges from paint, they were always like this. Lyanna looked at her own, already becoming calloused at the palms and thumb, often edged with dirt around her nailbeds.

Y/N was at a loss. Her friend’s harsh words were true enough; she was well aware of what their duties as women were. It crossed her mind now and again, the thought of marriage and that she’d have to return home eventually so her parents could begin to plan. She’d push those thoughts away, hoping the day would come slowly. She didn’t want to leave Winterfell, or her dear friends.

Still, she said, “It… It has to happen eventually. Our parents aren’t cruel, they wouldn’t give us terrible husbands, and they’d talk to us before any arrangement. When we have to leave Winterfell —”

“You won’t.” Lyanna pulled their hands apart. “You’ll be staying here, Y/N, and I’ll be sent away.”

“What? No, when my parents are ready arrange a match, they’ll call me back to Whitetide.”

“You aren’t going back! Isn’t it obvious? You’re going to marry one of my brothers!”

After that statement, the only sound in the bedroom was the crackling of the fire. Lyanna didn’t back down. In this light, her Stark eyes weren’t grey at all, only hot steel.

“How do you know that?” Y/N said. With the loss of Lyanna’s hands, she nervously tugged at end of her long sleeves. “Did … did someone say —?”

“No one has to! I thought you knew! You’re fourteen, a woman grown, and my parents haven’t sent you back, nor have your’s asked for you. When they meet, they’re always whispering and glancing around. Brandon will marry outside the North, as the oldest son, and Ned will marry inside, as the second. Benjen will serve Winterfell. It’s how these matters are done, Y/N.”

Y/N’s throat closed as she choked up. Her blood was rushing in discomfort. She didn’t want to fight, she wished they could just change the subject. What brought this on? She’d never seen Lyanna in a mood like this. “You don’t — you don’t know that. Maybe my parents will send for me in a month. We don’t know.”

“Maybe they will, but when it’s time for you to leave, they’ll send me away, too. There’s a reason mother doesn’t care if I spurn the lordlings here.”

Lyanna’s anger had broken again, now it was just frustration and sadness. The two girls stood in silence. The flames of the fire made shadows in the room, and that was the only thing that moved for some time. The shadows seemed to grasp at the two of them, little fingers reaching for their dresses and hair. Y/N was the one who stepped forward, wanting to make it better.

“We’ll always be friends,” Y/N said, trying to keep her own choked up voice steady. “No matter what. I won’t ever forget you. I’ll write you a dozen letters a month if you get sent to the south.”

Lyanna was tired. She couldn’t attempt a smile, but she said, “That’s more than you write to Ned. If he ended up in a green field instead of a mountain, would you have sent more?”

“No, the dozen is only for you.” Y/N said, even if she cursed the slowness of her letters to the Eyrie so many times, it felt like a mantra. She touched Lyanna’s shoulder. “Let’s ready for supper, Lyanna. You’ve been riding a long time.”

Lyanna only reluctantly went along with her. After dinner, they changed into their nightgowns and brushed each other’s hair, as usual, but there was no laughter and joking this time. When they huddled under the furs, Lyanna faced away, still deep in her thoughts. Y/N didn’t know what else to say, if anything at all would help, so she closed her eyes.

“What are you reading?” Benjen’s long hair swung back and forth as he hung upside down. Y/N looked up, wondering when he managed to scramble right above her. Just a few minutes ago he was struggling to get on the first branch.

“A letter,” Y/N said, “Although I think you already knew that.”

Benjen grinned. “I did, and I know who it’s from.” He swung back up on the branch and easily moved himself to a standing position. He reached for another branch and lifted himself with ease, starting his disappearance into the leaves. With each branch he climbed, a few leaves fell down. Y/N pulled one from her hair.

She rested against the trunk and returned to her letter. Ned was writing about Robert’s attempt at jousting. He much preferred the melee, but ladies preferred the jousting, he said. Y/N was pleased Ned stayed out of all that. He also tried to doodle a little manta ray, in response to the direwolves and cats and deer she often drew on the margins of her letters. They were… arrow-y looking. Close enough.

I’ll have to pick up some skills from you the next time we meet. I don’t think I’d be a good student, but just watching you paint with my own eyes would be enough. You’ve written about it before, but I think hearing you talk about it would be much different. I want to you to tell me.

Y/N closed the letter hastily, wondering if her beating heart and sweaty palms were showing on her face. She glanced around and caught eyes with Brandon. She kept noticing his staring in the past hour, even though he was across the training yard trying to practice. It was a little strange. Are there leaves in my hair again? She touched her hair from the top of her head to her pearl. Brandon seemed annoyed, so she’d prefer he kept his gaze to himself.

The tree branches shook above her, and she heard feet scuffling around. “Ben, be careful!” Y/N called upward. “You shouldn’t climb so high!”

Benjen either didn’t hear her, or was pretending to not hear. Y/N sighed, folding her letter, stashing it in her belt and standing up. She craned her head, trying to spy the wiry boy through the leaves. He may have been a year younger, but she fretted over him from time to time, thinking of her little brothers back in Whitetide.

“Maybe he’ll climb high enough to catch a cloud and float away.” Brandon was beside her before she knew it, and Y/N was glad he didn’t seem as bothered as she thought. On the contrary, he was amused.

“Maybe,” Y/N giggled. She heard more rattling, but it didn’t sound like leaves. It was metal chains, and coming from a different direction. Behind the two of them, the maester approached them as fast as he could, the old man breathing hard as the chains swayed around his neck. He didn’t seem to care about the mud dirtying the end of his robes.

“What’s happened?” Brandon asked while the maester tried to catch his breath. In all the years she’d been here, Y/N had never seen the man so harried, and it seemed neither had Brandon. For a panicked, irrational moment, Y/N thought there was a raven from Whitetide. Dark wings, dark words.

“Lady… Lady Stark has … a … an illness.” The maester took a deep breath, attempting to compose himself. “She has been … weak, as you know, but … it’s far worse than I thought. She needs to be kept apart from everyone else at the Keep. When was the last time you spoke with her, children?”

Brandon took a moment to respond. “This morning, I talked with her, she— she hugged me, but —”

The maester shook his head. “And you, Lady Y/N?”

“Last night, at dinner,” Y/N said quietly. “She took my hand…”

She remembered the kind gesture, and now weary and pale Lady Stark looked. That night, her eyes looked especially tired. She’d begun to hold onto her husband or one of the servants when she walked to and from her room, the place she stayed in the most nowadays. No one seemed to want to talk about her worsening condition, not even the Lady herself. Out of respect to her, no one mentioned it openly.

The leaves danced around them as Benjen swooped down from a low branch. “Can’t we see her?”

“I just said you cannot,” The maester said. “She will be kept away from here on, and we will burn her things and anything she has come in contact with. Now, if the three of you will come with me, I’ve already spoken with Lord Stark and Lyanna…”

Lady Lyarra Stark died within a week. The children heard of the passing suddenly, as her husband was the only one who could visit her through her last days. No amount of guards or a maester’s lecturing would keep Lord Stark from her bedside.

Y/N stood next to Lyanna at the funeral, allowing her friend to clutch her as they all prayed in the godswood. Lady Stark’s bones had been kept in a beautifully engraved wooden chest, and they would be moved to a place of honor in the crypts, but that was little comfort to the children she left behind.

Y/N said some prayers aloud, mouthed others, but kept her head down the entire time. She heard the servants of Winterfell crying and praying, and clearer than that, Lyanna’s crying into the fur draped around Y/N’s shoulder. Her voice was muffled, but Y/N could still feel her body shaking. Y/N herself was trying to keep her tears from rolling down her face. The warmth of them stung her cold cheeks terribly.

Benjen was quiet on the other side of her, staring up at the red leaves like he was in a daze. Brandon seethed beside his father, who was as old as the stone lords in the crypts. Y/N was anxious to see Lord Stark’s expression, knowing it would either scare her or make her tears come faster.

The Starks stayed behind to keep vigil while the servants and guards returned to the keep. Y/N didn’t know how long she stayed kneeling in the snow. She listened to Lyanna’s quieting tears and remembering the kindnesses Lady Stark had given her. Anytime Y/N missed her own mother, Lady Stark was ready to speak with her, to teach her something, or hold her for a while. Y/N couldn’t imagine how the others felt. She thought of her mother now, safe in Whitetide, and desperately wished she could see her.

“Return to the keep,” Lord Stark said after some time. Y/N still didn’t know how long they’d been outside. “All of you.”

“Father —” Brandon started.

“Go.”

Their lord father’s voice was hoarse and hard. He didn’t look at any of his children as they slowly stood around him. Y/N’s legs had gone completely numb from both the cold and kneeling. She wobbled, and Lyanna tried to help her stay upright, no doubt just as weak-legged herself. Benjen found his way to his sister’s side, holding onto her like she held onto Y/N. It reminded Y/N of when he was younger, tagging alongside the two of them.

Y/N glanced back, noticing that Brandon was still trying to linger by his father. She didn’t know if they exchanged words, but eventually Brandon caught up to them as they walked back to the keep.

They all walked slowly, and the Winterfell that greeted them was eerily quiet. The kitchen staff worked with no cheer or haste, the smith’s anvil was quiet, there were no carts or wagons being pulled through the gate. At the feast hall, the candles were burning low, and there was only one servant tending to the cleaning the floors. Her scrubbing was interrupted by intermittent sniffling.

Ned couldn’t be here, Y/N thought not for the first time. Her heart sunk into her gut, making her feel sick. She knew the others were thinking the same. What could I say? What could I possibly say?

She mechanically walked to the main parlor, sitting down at the windowsill. Lyanna sat by the hearth, Benjen sat beside his sister, and Brandon had split off from them quickly. Y/N looked out the window, glad it faced away from the Godswood. She had a feeling if it did, she’d see Lord Stark still kneeling in the snow. She recalled Ned told her the Eyrie’s godswood was more of a little forest, and her heart ached even further. It almost made her cry again. How are the gods supposed to watch over him? Or hear him when he’s in trouble?

She would wait for Lord Stark to send word, if it hadn’t already been done, then she’d send a letter to Ned herself. She’d paint something, too, something special. She’d do anything, if only she knew what that was. Why couldn’t he be here? Y/N rubbed at her raw eyes and rested her head against the cool glass of the window, letting the chill hit her dizzying, exhausted head.

Y/N stirred and sat up slowly. Her head was aching from the awkward angle she fell asleep at. She squinted out the window, but there was only darkness. Across the room, the fire was low, and a chill was settling in the room. Y/N pulled her fur cloak closer around her and shivered. Where was everyone?

She slipped off the windowsill and wandered the halls. If it was dinnertime, no one woke her up, and she didn’t smell meats cooking as she entered the great hall. Y/N stepped outside into the fresh snow, wondering if the day had all been a terrible dream.

It wasn’t, though, and she couldn’t hide from it. People died all the time, especially women and children. If it wasn’t this sickness, Lady Stark may have died in childbirth. That was a far more common fate, something Y/N would have to worry about herself one day. Some day soon.

She sighed heavily and hesitated at the edge of the godswood. The darkness was all around her, with the warmth and light of Winterfell far behind. She took a step forward, letting her boot sink into the snow. The moon was waning, giving off the slightest light. The white bark of the trees and the snow glowed on a full moon, but tonight, they disappeared.

One foot in front of the other, the snow crunched below Y/N’s feet. She kept thinking about Ned, imagining his expression, what he would say — she would never know, of course, and that made it worse. She could only write and draw, there was no holding and comforting. The thought of holding him hit her so strongly, her body ached. Lady Stark held her when she worried about her uncle at sea, when she caught sick or when she hurt herself. Y/N wanted to hold Ned like that, even if he was far bigger than she. Maybe this was a stupid, girlish, childish thought. Maybe it was, but stupid words on paper didn’t seem like enough.

There was a clear path that let to the heart tree, but the darkness didn’t help her navigate, a strange noise did. It made her jump at first, but there were no wolves in these woods. She listened carefully. There was the distinct sound of someone shuffling around in the snow, like they were standing up. Y/N anxiously wondered if it was Lord Stark. No, he can’t be here still. It’s been half a day …

She jumped out of her skin when she heard a voice call out, echoing off the snow and the trees. “Who goes there?!”

“I-It’s only me,” Y/N started, ready to apologize to Lord Stark, but the voice sounded off. Too young, too angry. “…Brandon? Is that you?”

The person didn’t respond, but she heard boots trudging clumsily through the snow. She felt a presence next to her, and finally she could see his outline. Y/N reached forward and was surprised to not touch a fur cloak or thick surcoat, but a fairly thin tunic that was frigid cold, and the stiff muscles underneath it. Brandon didn’t flinch away from her, so she kept her hold on his forearms.

“Brandon, come inside.” Y/N said. Her own voice was weak, she realized, and she was already shivering. “It’ll get colder, and it’s already so dark. How long have you been here?”

Brandon sniffled, both from the cold and the tears, she assumed. “Father hasn’t come in. I was waiting …”

Y/N shook her head. He must have come right outside after realizing it was dark and Lord Stark still hadn’t returned to the keep. “You can’t stay out here all night. Come inside. Please?”

Brandon didn’t seem easy on his feet, and he was trying to keep his teeth from chattering. “I-I have a vigil to keep. I have to — father is, s-so I should at least try…”

“You’re cold, and exhausted, besides. You ran out here without anything, you fool. Why aren’t you wearing a cloak?”

He mumbled something in return. Y/N pulled the tall boy toward her, wanting to urge him toward the light in the distance. She was ready to give him her modest cloak, just enough to serve until they reached the warmth of Winterfell, but then he wrapped his arms around her. Y/N let out a noise of surprise as his head slumped on her shoulder. Brandon was heavy, but she kept steady. For a moment, it was all still: The godswood around them, Brandon in her arms, the night above them.

Y/N was about to speak, but then she heard a noise, like a deep gasp. Brandon shook from the cold and his own emotion. Y/N wrapped her arms around his shoulders and let him cry.

Robert shook his leg impatiently, causing the thick heel of his boot to tap against the floor again and again. Normally Lord Arryn would chastise him for his restlessness, but the two of them had been quiet for days. Robert didn’t like quiet, or gloominess. He didn’t want to stay like this a minute longer.

“Has he left his room yet?” Robert asked for the third time.

“Be patient, Robert.” Lord Arryn replied expectedly. “Recall that terrible day you endured.”

He didn’t have to recall his own parents’ demise. Robert thought about it often, a wound that was still fresh, and it only closed up when he drank enough or when a pretty girl sat by him. It’d come back afterward, though, and then he had Ned to talk to.

He shouldn’t have to go through the same thing, Robert thought irritably. The worst part is, he knew Ned wouldn’t want a drink or a pretty girl, or a fight, or a new horse. He would just sit in his own sorrow, brooding in that way he did. The young Baratheon huffed, shifting his restless energy to tapping his fingers on the table. Ned was always talking him out of trouble and listening to his worries — the only person he’d ever spoken to about them. But what did Robert ever do for him?

The Baratheon heir growled in frustration and stood from his seat abruptly. Lord Arryn only glanced up a moment, but Robert was already gone.

He barged into Ned’s room, and was half disappointed Ned wasn’t there — he’d been sitting vigil at the Eyrie’s godswood for too damned long, but that made this next part easier. Ned had several of his girl’s paintings up around his desk, where anyone could see them, but Robert knew where he kept the letters. He opened the bottom drawer and in a wooden box with the direwolf sigil, and there they were.

Robert had read some before. Sometimes Ned would read things aloud, sometimes Robert snuck in here, but they were never that exciting. Always talking about Winterfell or what the horses were doing, nothing salacious like a proper love letter should be. Still, they made Ned happy. Robert picked a few out and tucked them carefully in his doublet.

The grass crunched under his boots as he entered the godswood. The fiery red leaves and snow-white bark looked out of place amongst the rocky Eyrie, he always thought, especially when there was bright green grass and regular trees around the weirwoods. He spotted Ned at the same place he’d been for hours, kneeling. His head was lowered slightly, some of his long brown hair falling around him, and Robert wondered if he was asleep. Then Ned raised his head and turned it.

“Robert?”

“Brought you something.” Robert said. Ned wasn’t getting up, so he awkwardly knelt beside him. Gods, it was murder on the knees, and even in that position he was far taller than Ned. Robert retrieved the letters from his doublet and handed them over.

Ned looked at them with hope, then confusion.

“They aren’t new,” Robert said, chuckling. “I just … I remembered you liked these ones. Y/N was writing something about a festival? And Lyanna stole a sword off your brother. Y/N wrote about her dress, and something about a horse…”

He trailed off, wondering if this was a stupid idea. He was terrible at this. These were the letters with the most pictures, giving life to what Y/N wrote about, as clear as any maester’s history book. Ned stared at the papers in his hands, lightly touching a rare self-portrait Y/N had done of her new gown.

I worked on it for two weeks, although your lady mother helped me several times over. It’s the first one I’ve sewn by myself, and I hope I do it justice. This may not be interesting to you, but I’m proud. It’s cerulean and white.

Lyanna wanted me to draw her with Brandon’s sword. She thinks it’s very funny. ‘How can he call himself a lord when he can’t keep hold of his own sword?’ I thought Benjen was the thief, but Lyanna can be just as clever. It took him all day to realize she’d replaced his with a dull training sword.

Do you remember when you found my pearl? You couldn’t forget, I know, but I still think about it when remove it to brush my hair. I’ll never forget that kindness, Ned.

He smiled for the first time in a week. To Robert’s excitement, he made an expression for the first time in days.

“You can go back home,” Robert offered, wanting to keep the mood up. “Even if it’s just for a short time.”

They were men grown, ten and seven years old. If anything, they should have left the Eyrie by now. Both of them knew it was only a matter of time, though Robert didn’t want to go back to Storm’s End after all these years, having to finally take his lordly duties seriously. Ned was a second son, his duty would be commanding the household guard or visiting with minor houses.

Robert had a feeling if Ned left now, he wouldn’t come back to the Eyrie.

“Perhaps.” The Stark said quietly.

Their easy days had to end eventually. Why did it have to be on such a damned sad note?

Robert looked up at the heart tree. Its eerie, foreign face stared down at him. He had no prayers to give, only a quiet request that when Ned returned to Winterfell, it would be safely. The only noise for a long time was the wind rustling the branches of the white trees and the shuffling of the letters as Ned re-read them.

#ned stark x reader #game of thrones x reader #salt & snow #libra fics #i just realized all the summaries of this fic hint at something sad happening LOL

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giuliafc · 3 years

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Betrayal -- Chapter 19 and 19bis: Inside the Mind of a Criminal (snippet dal 30) + Pigella (LadyNoir July day 30)

<< 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5 – 6 – 7 – 8 – 9 – 10 – 11 – 12 – 13 – 14 – 15 – 16 – 17 – 18 -- 19: Ao3 || FFN – 19 bis: Ao3 || FFN -- 20 >>

Betrayal Chapter 19: Inside the Mind of a Criminal

Written by: JuliaFC

Beta: Agrestebug and MyImaginationFlows

Summary: We learn the background story of Lila's father, Richard Sphinx, the new Papillon, and how he's going to be much, much worse than the first one...

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by (c) Thomas Astruc, TS1 Bouygues, Disney Channel, Zagtoon, Toei Animation. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

TW: mention of extreme manipulative and obsessive behaviour and cruelty against family

Written for the "Snippet July" challenge of the Miraculous Fanworks Discord server @miraculousfanworks

oOoOoOoOoOo

"Well done, Lila. Now head back to the monk and get his staff. If there are more jewels like these, we need to get our hands on them!" Richard sat at the desk of his office, staring at the nothing in front of him. His elbows pinned on the wood of the desk, his face resting on the length of his hands. His body was wrapped in a purple and grey suit and a grey mask covered his face, making his green eyes shine.

Briefly, he broke contact with Lila's akuma and stood up; he slowly paced the room to the fireplace. His gloved hand picking up a photograph on the mantle, portraying a woman with short brown hair wrapped in an elegant blue tailleur.

He still remembered the day he'd met Melania, Lila's mother. She was a petite Italian lady who exuded elegance and genuineness at a celebrity party. She looked so out of place, and her cheerful smile was like a breath of fresh air in the hypocrite atmosphere of the ball room. He still remembered his burning passion, how much he'd wanted her—her and all she represented. She was the daughter of a rich Italian family of ambassadors, with excellent connections all over the diplomatic world he wanted to be part of. When his charming politeness managed to raise her interest, he thought he'd hit the jackpot.

Their story had been short but intense, their relationship the final tassel in the puzzle that brought him to the limelight. Before their engagement of 5 years ended, FERG, his company, was quoted in the stock exchange. Quickly rising to be one of the top companies in the market.

Everything was perfect. Then, Melania fell pregnant and had her baby. For reasons that Richard couldn't understand, she somehow started distancing her husband — him. He suspected that the accusations of him having committed several cases of fraud, and having caused several suicides, may have been part of it. But Richard had done it for her. Nobody else was important in his mind. He had to protect his family. He had to protect the people who mattered for him. How could Melania not see that?

"You're a heartless monster!" she accused him instead, when she tried to leave him and go stay with a friend; but he found her almost immediately and locked her up in her room.

The more he clenched his grip on Melania, the more the woman became distant, almost terrified. Eventually, she dared to ask for divorce and deny him the rights to see his daughter.

"His obsessive behaviour is harming me and my daughter! I'm afraid for our safety, Your Honour," she told the judge. "Only the money is important to Richard! He puts his company before the safety of his family."

Needless to say, she won the case. Since then, she kept as far away as possible and had tried to keep Lila away from him too. She had changed her surname to the plain Rossi, and changed her job many times. Until Lila was old enough to make her own decisions, she succeeded at keeping him away.

But Lila was a clever girl. Her thirst for power and her quest for attention were second to him. She knew what was important in life, that power and money were the only things that mattered. As soon as she had gained the use of a mobile phone, she contacted him (lying to her mother). They had been plotting against Melania ever since.

Now it was their time to obtain their aim. When Papillon trusted Lila to be his second in charge, Richard advised his daughter to gain as much information as she could about those powerful jewels that gave him power. Now all that hard work was paying off.

He squeezed Melania's photo in his hands, breaking the frame with his strong hold. How dare she run away from him? How dare she disregard his burning passion?

"You don't love me, you think you own me," shouted Melania when she left him, taking away his only daughter with her. "I don't want you to be a bad influence on our daughter. You terrify me."

How dare she. She was his wife, his other half, his property.

"You're mine. MINE. No judge can take you away from me."

He stared in a daze at the blood flowing from his gloved hands, where the shattered glass of the photo frame had pierced the skin underneath the suit. His eyes gleamed of madness. "I will be victorious. I will get the Miraculous of Ladybug and Chat Noir. And when I have the most powerful jewels in the world, you will come back. You will love me again. If you won't, I’ll force you to."

oOoOoOoOoOo

Gabriel closed his eyes as he placed a single red rose between Emilie's palms and squeezed her hands gently before closing the glass cover of her coffin one last time. He rested his hand on the glassy surface for an endless moment; the hand of Lieutenant Raincomprix falling on his arm way too soon for his tastes. He sighed and gave one last glance at the peaceful face of his sleeping wife.

"It's time to go, M. Agreste. Mlle. Sancoeur," said the officer.

They had spent a long time talking to SentiAdrien in Adrien's room. The boy had confirmed most of the wrongdoings that his teachers and friends had accused Gabriel and Nathalie of, and had pleaded completely non guilty regarding any involvement in his father's terrorist activities.. M. Raincomprix had decided to be safe, and was arresting both Gabriel and Nathalie.

"Mlle. Sancoeur will most likely be released when the heroes witness her double agenting, but better safe than sorry," said Raincomprix.

Gabriel glared at him as the officer moved his and Nathalie's hands behind their back and handcuffed them. He shot one last, languid glance at the blonde figure in the coffin, before having to follow Raincomprix and walk away.

To be continued… Day 30.2 — Bonus chapter

30.2 - Betrayal Chapter 19 bis: Pigella

Written by: JuliaFC

Beta: Agrestebug and MyImaginationFlows

Summary: Ladybug struggles to understand how to win against the vacuum akuma, but Volpina has to eventually face (temporary) defeat. (1687 words)

Written for the LadyNoir July @ladynoirjuly Day 30 — Rose.

oOoOoOoOoOo

"Hey, Vacuum Lady, Aren't you tired of collecting dirt?" shouted Chat Noir as he used his baton to propel himself up. He smirked and added, "Probably not, since you've got Volpina with you. She's the biggest piece of dirt in existence!"

"How dare you," hissed Volpina and the Vacuum akuma at the same time before they both followed Chat Noir out of the way.

Ladybug gazed at the two akumas following her partner gratefully; then she put her hands to her temples and closed her eyes shut to concentrate. She picked up her communicator and dialled Alya's number.

"What's the plan, Ladybug? I saw Chat Noir jumping away with the akumas, I thought he may be trying to distract them."

"You were correct. Listen, Alya, I need you to use the water dragon. Water passes through surfaces so you will reach me in no time," whispered Ladybug to her Bugphone.

Alya smirked. "Right-o, I'm on it!"

Just seconds after their conversation, Ladybug saw water seeping through the barrier of books that towered in front of her. And, in a whirl of magic, Dragonbee Alya appeared in front of her. She wore a red outfit with the symbol of the dragon at the centre of her chest and curvy golden lines separated the red from sections of gold and black stripes. Her hair was combed in a twirly ponytail that looked like the sting of a bee. Ladybug didn't waste time and picked up her phone again, dialling Chat Noir's number this time.

"Chat, bring your whiskers back here immediately, before your transformation wears out!" she said before he could even say meow. With a gracious jump, her partner was again by her side seconds later.

"M'lady called?" he asked with a little smirk that Ladybug would have loved to take off his face with a kiss, but she knew perfectly well it wasn't the right moment.

"Alya, Chat and I’s timers are running out, we must be quick. Use the wind dragon and swoop us out of this alley and back on a rooftop."

Alya's eyes gleamed. "As you wish, Ladybug. Wind dragon!" Ladybug and Chat Noir were wrapped in a current of wind and next thing they knew, they were on a rooftop next to Nino (or rather, Thueban Jameel (1), as he has called himself), far away from the Library Maze but still keeping it in sight. The two heroes hid behind a chimney to release their transformation and feed their kwami without being spied on, and in no time they were up and running again.

"Okay now…before the akumas find us and we get stuck into that maze again. Lucky Charm!" called Ladybug. A red and black polka dotted single rose fell into her hands. "What?" she muttered, scratching her head.

"Are we going to declare our love to a vacuum cleaner?" was Chat Noir's snarky comment. But before Ladybug could say anything, the rooftop they were standing on disappeared and they all fell on the ground, facing yet another massive wall of books.

"Shoot! Here we are again…" cursed Ladybug.

The vacuum akuma reached them as well. "There you are, you fools. Did you really think you could escape? What a bunch of idiots! Tricksters, like that thief. I'll sweep you all away from existence. I wish I didn't always try to help people. I wish my heart hadn't been so kind. I'll take all the tricksters away, so maybe my boss will forgive me. I need my job!"

The four superheroes had to forcefully separate again trying to escape from the strength of the vacuum's sucking power. Before jumping off, Ladybug took a good look at the akuma and noticed that the akumatised object must be a book, which the victim was holding in her hand to create the vortex of sucking power.

Something in what the akuma had said was nagging at Ladybug. As she ran to hide from the vacuum, she went back to what the akuma had previously said: someone had stolen a book from her library and she was upset about it.

"What do you mean by trickster?" she asked when the akuma reached her once more.

A smirk popped on the victim's face. "That liar tricked me. He told me a sappy story about his family and convinced me to lend him the book without opening an account, but in the name of someone else. He promised me he was going to bring the book back in a couple of days. I'm too nice, too gullible. I wish all the tricksters would disappear!"

Ladybug's gaze fell on her lucky charm and her eyes widened. OF COURSE! How could she be that stupid to not realise before? She unified Kaalki and Tikki, becoming Pegabug. Then, with a smirk on her lips, she called for a 'Voyage' and jumped out of the maze, stepping inside the Couffaine's boat.

"Ladybug? Is there something wrong?" said Rose. That was a strike of luck: Rose was in Juleka's room, but her girlfriend was nowhere to be seen. "Jules is in the bathroom, if you're looking for her," added Rose when she noticed that Ladybug's gaze had darted around the room.

"No, I was looking for you, actually." She opened her yoyo and took out a pearl anklet. "Rose Lavillant, this is the Miraculous of the Pig. I need Pigella's help to win against this akuma."

Rose grabbed the anklet and put it on, allowing Daizzi to come out in a buzz of magic. "I still can't believe how cute you are," said Rose when she looked at the little kwami. Then, she muttered the transformation phrase and changed into Pigella.

It didn't take long for Pegabug and Pigella to find the vacuum akuma again, just in time to see Chat Noir being sucked in the vacuum when he got distracted by their arrival. The sound of Ladybug's scream echoed in the empty alley of books.

"You've got another one with you, Ladybug? I'll suck her in too!" drawled the akuma victim. But Pigella's gaze had a determined gleam.

"Why is your heart so full of sorrow? You should rejoice and be happy!" said Pigella with the sweetest of smiles on her face.

"Don't get close to me! I'm going to suck you in!" warned the akuma, but Pigella didn't just get close to her. She hugged her. The akuma was so baffled that she got petrified on the spot.

"Gift," murmured the pink superheroine and in a flash of light, a beautiful scene appeared in between the two girls, picturing a room full of books and everyone loving each other and being nice and friendly with each other. The akuma victim had tears in her eyes.

"Why are people so nasty? Why do people do wrong things, like lying or stealing? I want everyone to be happy!" The akuma leaned in Pigella's embrace and hugged her back, dropping the book that created the vacuum in the process. As soon as the akuma's grip on the book weakened, Ladybug caught it. She broke the book to release the butterfly, which she hastily captured, cleansed and released.

"Bye bye, little butterfly," said Ladybug as the white insect flew away in the sky. Then she picked up the lucky charm and threw it in the air, releasing the kaleidoscope of ladybugs. The instant Chat Noir reappeared, she was in his arms.

"I'm purr-fectly okay, M'lady," said the feline but this didn't stop the polka-dotted heroine from crying.

"Why do you always die for me? I don't want you to do that anymore!"

Chat Noir smiled softly as he hugged her tight, then he broke the hug to wipe her eyes and stroke her cheek. "I'm sorry, ma Buginette. I'll try to pay more attention, okay?"

"This new Papillon seems very dangerous, especially because he has a cunning fox like Volpina at his side. We need to pay even more attention than before!" said Ladybug as she hugged him again. He patted his hand on her back, gently drawing circles on the material of her suit.

"I'll be okay, as long as I'm with you," murmured Chat Noir into her ear.

oOoOoOoOoOo

"I'm very disappointed, Volpina." Richard's voice was tense as he spoke through the ethereal connection of the butterfly. "We were so close to achieving our goal, and now we have to start all over again! I've no time for losers!"

Far away on a rooftop, Volpina lowered her head and closed her eyes, clenching her fists. "I'm sorry, Father! I still have my Miraculous though, and the akuma."

She groaned thinking back at how Pegabug had immediately found the tracker she'd put on Su-Han's bag. She had completely underestimated how strong and skilled the monk was, and she hadn't been able to steal his staff. Besides, Su-Han seemed to have the annoying ability to see through her Illusions, which she really didn't expect.

"I will come up with a new plan to submit to you, Father, don't worry!" she said, seething in a low growl.

Richard's stern expression didn't soften. "You better. Did you get Melania to sign the document I gave you?"

Volpina took a paper from her pocket and looked at it carefully. It was a request to cease school and start homeschooling, signed by her mother. It had taken her much more than just a trick to obtain her mother to scribble her signature without noticing what it was all about. "I have it here. I told her that the school will be closed because of all the attacks and that I would stay with a friend of mine for some time." Pain flashed through her eyes as she added, "I doubt she would have noticed anyway, as busy as she is with work."

Richard smirked, hearing the hurt in Volpina's voice. "Worry not, my daughter. When we make the Wish, she will have all the time in the world to dedicate herself exclusively to us." His smirk widened when he felt the strength of her emotions. "Together we will succeed."

He cackled, and from her rooftop, Volpina sneered.

To be Continued… Day 31

Notes:

Thueban Jameel: "Beautiful Snake", from the Arabic for beautiful, "Jameel" (جميل) and the Arabic for snake, "Thueban" (ثعبان). (Thank you so much to my Beta, MyImaginationFlows, for her assistance with Arabic!) The peacock is the symbol of beauty, so I thought it would fit.

Author's Note

Hey! Here it is, this is a bonus chapter I had to write because the snippets didn't give me enough space to wrap up the battle and all loose ends. It's a second part for chapter 19, based on the LadyNoir prompt for day 30, "Rose". Let me know what you think of it.

I hope you will like it anyway and will leave me a comment. You know that comments are my bread and butter!

You're lucky today because you're getting even the epilogue and the end of the story. So… until I finish updating that, a temporary 'bug out'!

#miraculous ladynoir #miraculous love square #miraculous lb #miraculous les aventures de ladybug et chat noir #miraculous adrien #miraculous ladybug #miraculous #miraculous nathalie #nathalie sancoeur #ladynoirjuly2021 #miraculous fanworks

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tripleaxeldiaz · 3 years

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maybe one day i’ll fly next to you

chapter 3/8

read on ao3

start from the beginning

The two weeks before Skate America breeze by, every hour filled with skating or conditioning or trying not to creep on message boards to see what people are predicting for the season. Buck feels good, the best he’s ever felt this early on. He tries to reign it in, that voice in his head reminding him that he could still lose it all at any moment, but it’s muffled and quiet and easy to ignore.

He’s also been seeing more of Eddie, now that he knows he’s not the douchebag he always assumed he was. They condition together, watch each other's jumping passes and offer tips, even take their lunch break together, talking about everything skating and some non skating things too. It’s easy and nice and the best parts of Buck’s days, if he’s honest. He maybe always thinks about talking to Eddie, picking his brain for his thoughts on various skaters’ programs, watching him laugh with his whole body at some snarky comment Buck makes about someone’s horrible choice in costume. Buck likes the way he laughs, likes the way he feels a little warmer when he makes him laugh.

He should have known this brief bubble of happiness would be popped sooner rather than later.

The day before they leave, he and Maddie get an email — an email — from their mother, inviting them to dinner while they’re in town for the competition. To say Buck’s surprised would be an understatement.

“How’d they even find out it’s in Reading this year? Did you tell them?”

Maddie rolls her eyes, stabbing her salad with a little more force than necessary. “I haven’t spoken to them in longer than you have, so no. They’ve probably seen ads or something.”

“We could lie, tell them Bobby’s really strict about non-skating things during competitions?”

“Sure, but then they might just call Bobby on their own and blow our whole cover.”

“We could tell them we’re sick? Food poisoning? Then miraculously get better?”

“If that didn’t work when you tried to get out of taking your SAT, I don’t think it’ll work this time, either.”

“I wasn’t even planning on going to college, why did I—” Buck huffs as Maddie shakes her head at him sympathetically.

There’s really no way for them to get out of this.

The thing is, their parents aren’t bad people — a doctor and a PR manager who are on every non-profit board in the county, volunteer at the local animal shelter, and donate plenty of money to plenty of charities. As parents, though, they somehow manage an interesting balance of using their children’s successes for their own bragging rights and making them feel like they’re always just shy of good enough. They supported them growing up, sure, paid their way through lessons and competitions before endorsements started coming in, but it always felt like it was serving their own clout more than helping Buck and Maddie follow their dreams. When they moved out to LA, it was easy to distance themselves, rescheduling calls indefinitely until their parents eventually just stopped trying.

The last time Buck talked to them was right after his leg surgery — they called under the guise of “checking in on him”, but spent most of the call figuring out the quickest way to get him back to practice, offering to pay for extra surgeries and PT to speed up the process. He’s sure they thought they were helping, but it felt more like they were eager for him to get back to winning medals so they could tell their friends about it.

As much as he loves to win, it’s not the same when someone else is pushing you more than you’re pushing yourself.

He sighs again, slumping down in his chair. He hadn’t been nervous at all about Skate America, but now the itch of self doubt has made a home right under his skin, and it wasn’t even for a skating reason. Maddie reaches across the table to grab his wrist, squeezing lightly.

“It’ll be two hours max, then we’ll make an excuse about early practice and leave. It won’t be that bad.”

Buck nods, turning back to his lunch, suddenly not hungry as his stomach continues to churn.

~~~~~~~~~~

He didn’t expect to get this nostalgic, but the familiar drive toward Reading and the Sovereign Center (Santander Arena now, because capitalism is a prison) fills him with jittery excitement and a weird sense of calm, just like it did when he was a kid competing in the regional circuit. The arena was a palace compared to their rink in Hershey, and it always made him want to skate well enough to be worthy of the ice there. It’s where he won his first medal ever, his first gold, his first trip to Nationals, and would hopefully now serve as a stepping stone once again, this time leading him towards Beijing.

Eddie’s lounging on his bed, shirtless and flipping channels, when Buck gets to their room. It wasn’t a surprise this time — they’d requested to room together anyway — but seeing Eddie like this, soft and relaxed and somehow at home in a hotel room, makes Buck’s heart flip a little bit.

Buck’s heart has been flipping a lot around Eddie, and making him think about stupid things like kissing him and how his abs would feel under his fingertips and how he’d prefer his eggs in the morning. It’s taking up a lot of real estate in his brain, and it’s going to get even worse now that they’re sleeping 10 feet away from each other, he’s sure.

That doesn’t stop him from sneaking glances at Eddie while he unpacks. Just to get it out of his system so he can focus.

It’s fine.

He can totally handle this.

~~~~~~~~~~

Skata America is a much bigger deal than ACI — more cameras, more interviews, more people watching in the stands and on TV. That should mean it’s all more intimidating, too, but Buck is thriving under the lights and camera lenses. This will be the first real chance to show people — not just skating people, but everyone — what he can do, and the anticipation of how it will be received buzzes through him constantly. That buzz practically dictates his every move through practices and his short, finally ceasing as he hits his final pose. It’s quickly replaced by elation — he knows he nailed everything, he knows the resounding applause is deserved.

He knows he’s in first place before they even announce his score.

When they do, he’s right, and he’s thrilled, but there’s also a pang of disappointment, because the margin is tight — only three points between him and Eddie in second. Bobby hands him his protocols in the green room, and his stomach clenches when he sees that his step sequence and his sit spin were downgraded to level threes. His brain starts spinning, mentally combing through every revolution and edge to figure out where the hell he fucked up, when he feels a warm, solid hand on his shoulder. He looks up and sees Eddie, but instead of pity like he expected (or gloating like he feared), he just sees understanding in his eyes, maybe even a hint of the same irritation he’s feeling.

“They screwed me over too, my camel should have had a plus three GOE at least.” Eddie says, squeezing Buck’s shoulder. Somehow, he’s already feeling better.

“I bet it was the French judge, he’s always been a conniving bastard.”

“We could take him out, we have time before tomorrow.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Buck says, as Eddie offers his hand and pulls him up to stand. He tries not to miss the warmth when he lets go.

“For what it’s worth,” Eddie says quietly as they make their way around skaters and coaches in the hallway toward the press room, “I think you should be at least 10 points ahead, if not more. You were something else out there.”

Buck can’t make his brain come up with a proper response by the time they take their seats on the makeshift stage in front of the reports, so all he can do is smile and hope it comes across as totally chill and not as dopey as it feels.

Eddie smiles back, and Buck thinks he’s beautiful.

The presser goes just as expected — a few questions lobbed at the Candian skater currently in third, more for Buck since he’s in first, but the most still go to Eddie. Being the favorite for Olympic gold doesn’t go away after half a competition, and the reporters are rabid as ever. Buck’s seen Eddie’s press routine — the humble charm and gracious smiles, cracking jokes like he’s talking to friends and not a bunch of strangers with tape recorders. He’d spent years mentally rolling his eyes at what he thought was the fakeness of it all, but after getting closer to Eddie, he knows that’s just how Eddie is. Kind and patient, actively listening to what people are saying, taking his time to form thoughtful answers.

But whatever’s happening now is not the Eddie he knows — his laughs are forced and almost too loud, his smile is tight and boarding on a grimace. He keeps fidgeting with his credentials and the sleeve of his Team USA zip-up, eyes darting around like he’s charting his path to get out of the room as fast as possible once they’re done.

He’s nervous. Buck doesn’t think he’s ever seen him nervous, at least not like this, and it’s honestly a little unsettling. So much so that all Buck wants to do is fix it, bring the light back to Eddie’s eyes, bleed the tension out of his shoulders.

There’s probably not an easy way to do that while answering questions about his performance.

He waits until he sees the “wrap it up” signal from the event worker off to the side, the next reporter giving one last question to the Canadian skater. He doesn’t think about it too hard, just stretches his leg a little to the right, slowly, until he and Eddie are ankle to ankle. It’s not much, but Eddie still looks over at him, first confused and then grateful, a small, real smile on his face, his shoulders falling away from his ears.

Eddie’s quiet on the ride back to the hotel, but he looks calmer, listening to everyone else talk about their events and what could happen tomorrow during free skates. He’s still jittery though, leg bouncing as he sits next to Buck on the bus. Whatever was bothering him during interviews is clearly still lingering, and Buck has to fight the urge to reach out and calm his shaking with a hand on his knee.

They make it back to their room, door barely clicking in place behind them, before Buck breaks.

“Are you okay?” he asks. Eddie freezes in front of him, half turned around like he was about to ask Buck something before he steamrolled over him. “You seemed stressed during the presser and on the ride back, and I just...wanted to make sure you’re good.”

Eddie looks stunned for a second before letting out a breath, hand rubbing over his face. “I knew this would happen, you know? The extra attention. It happened after Pyeongchang and the bronze medal, but it died down eventually. I thought I’d have more time to mentally prepare for it again, I guess.” He shakes his head, hand falling to his side as he shrugs his shoulders helplessly. “Today was just a lot.”

Buck nods, patting Eddie’s arm in understanding because he gets it. Most of the time he basks in any form of attention, but some days the lights are too hot and the voices are too loud and faking a smile through it is impossible. The one Buck sees now is real though, he knows it, and he’s happy to see Eddie relaxing now that they’re away from the vultures.

“Well, lucky for you, I’ll be out of your hair tonight, so you’ll have plenty of time to yourself,” Buck says, crossing the room to his bed, digging through his bag for his dinner clothes.

“Where are you going?” Eddie asks, and when Buck looks back at him as he heads to the bathroom to change, he swears he looks disappointed, briefly, before it shifts to confusion. “We don’t have any team stuff tonight, right?”

“Nah, Maddie and I got suckered into dinner with our parents.”

“Are Buckley family dinners always black tie affairs?” he asks when Buck comes back in slacks and a white button down, struggling to knot his tie.

“No, but they told us to dress nicely, so we’re probably going to some fancy restaurant downtown. Knowing them, we’ll also be dragged to some party one of their friends is having that’s conveniently close by.”

He groans in frustration when his tie comes out crooked again, and Eddie laughs, taking pity on him and coming to do it himself. Buck tries to keep cool, willing his cheeks not to turn red, but it’s hard when he can feel Eddie’s breath on his chin, feel his fingers run across his collarbones, and he’s so close, if he just leaned in—

“Sounds like it wouldn’t be the first time.”

Buck sighs through his nose. “I love my parents, they’re just...better from a distance.”

Eddie winces in what looks like sympathy, smoothing Buck’s tie and the front of his shirt as he finishes. Buck misses the motion as soon as it’s gone.

“Maybe they’ll prove you wrong this time,” Eddie says.

Buck rolls his eyes at that, but can’t help a small part of him desperately hoping that Eddie will be right.

~~~~~~~~~~

Eddie is so wrong.

Not only is there a party, it’s a party at their parent’s house, which is in full swing by the time Buck and Maddie pull up in their Lyft. Their mother opens the door, hair up, dress immaculate, lipstick-stained wine glass perched precariously in her hand.

“Evan! Maddie! Come in, so glad you could join us!” She kisses both their cheeks and hugs them quickly before taking their hands and dragging them deeper into the house. There are people everywhere, some faces Buck remembers and some new ones. There are waiters milling around too, passing bacon wrapped figs and mini bruschetta, and Buck feels his stomach rumble.

“So I guess we’re not doing dinner, huh Mom?” Buck asks, trying to keep the sarcasm to a minimum. Judging by the look Maddie gives him, he’s not doing a great job.

Their mother, of course, doesn’t bat an eye. “Sorry, sweetheart. We didn’t realize we were double booked, and we’d already moved this party once. There’s plenty of food in the kitchen though, you can eat after I’ve introduced you to some people. Everyone’s so excited to hear about how you’re doing. Philip, there you are!” Buck spots his father too, a head above the crowd, tie loose and cheeks flushed. He shakes Buck’s hand firmly, kisses Maddie on the top of her head, and is gone in an instant when someone beckons him towards the bar set up on the back wall of the living room.

“Nice to see you, too. We’re doing fine, thanks for asking!” Buck says under his breath before their mother is whisking them away again.

They spend the next hour flitting between couples — the Whiteheads, the Culls, the Carters, and a bunch of others he can’t differentiate — getting whiplash from their mother’s flipping between actual praise and backhanded compliments.

“Evan’s one of the top skaters in the country, though not as highly ranked as he was before his accident. We’re hoping he’ll be back up there by the time the Olympics roll around so he’ll make the team.”

“Maddie’s been with her partner for about three years now, right darling? They don’t have as many golds as she had with Doug, but they do skate well together.”

“Yes, that skater from Japan is very good Rebecca, you’re right! Evan, do you know him? Maybe he can give you some pointers about your edges going into your spins? I know you struggle with those.”

On and on and on, Buck and Maddie barely able to get a word in. They see their father only a few times, and each time he’s gone as quickly as he comes, pulled away by colleagues or board members or whoever it is they’re entertaining tonight. Buck is exhausted, and not just because it’s been a long day already, but from having to keep up the good natured laughs and graciousness when he doesn’t even feel like a person. He feels more like a trophy, being shuttled from room to room to be admired for a while before being shoved into a closet where no one can see you. Because that’s exactly what’s going to happen — their parents will tout them around for the night, send them back to the hotel, and not speak to them again until they need something.

Buck really forgot just how small this big house can make him feel.

Eventually, he breaks away, making an excuse about needing the restroom before quietly sneaking up the back staircase to the second floor. Maddie finds him 15 minutes later, sliding down to sit next to him in the guest room closet.

“Old habits die hard, I guess,” she says, and Buck smiles weakly. He hid in here a lot when he was a kid, sometimes with Maddie and sometimes alone. When it was all too much — the pressure from their parents or his coach or himself — this is where he came to quiet his brain. The darkness and the smell of the cedar chest full of their mother’s old sweaters was comforting, and it wrapped around him like a blanket until he could breathe again.

“None of their habits have died, that’s for sure,” he says. “Is it sad that I thought they would?”

“It’s not sad to hope for better. It’s just hard when all that hope is for nothing.”

Buck sighs, head thumping against the wall. Maddie threads her arm through his and rests her head on his shoulder. They sit like that for a while, quiet, both in their own heads, though he’s sure Maddie is thinking about and wishing for the same things he is.

He shifts eventually, head resting on top of hers. “Can we go yet? We could probably sneak out the back door. If they haven’t come looking for us yet, they definitely won’t notice.”

“Should we just go back to the hotel? It’s only 8:30.”

“What else are we gonna do?”

Maddie types furiously on her phone for a minute. “Chim, Hen, and May are down to hang out. And WhirlyDome is open until midnight.”

“That place is still around?”

“Apparently, and they have half price appetizers after 9.”

The thought of mozzarella sticks and onion rings makes his stomach growl loudly again. “Alright, let’s do it. But I’m inviting Eddie too.”

Maddie just smirks at him, getting up and out of the closet before he has a chance to ask what the look was for.

It would just be rude not to invite him.

And maybe part of Buck wishes he had stayed in with Eddie tonight from the start.

[to: Eddie] tonight sucked. we’re going to play whirlyball and eat fried food. u in?

[from: Eddie] ????? What the hell is whirlyball?

[to: Eddie] omg now u HAVE to come. meet us here in half an hour

He sends the address and does not smile like an idiot when Eddie says he’ll see him soon.

~~~~~~~~~~

“So it’s...bumper cars?”

“Bumper cars plus lacrosse plus basketball, kind of. It’s super fun and only a little dangerous.”

“Can I watch for a bit first?”

“Sorry Eds, first timers have to play. You’ll be fine, I promise.”

Eddie still looks skeptical as they get ready for the next game, carefully sitting in the car and picking up his scoop.

A bell rings and the cars come to life, rumbling around the room as everyone starts scrambling for the ball. It takes about 30 seconds for Eddie to get the hang of steering, and by the end of the first game, no one would ever guess he’d never played before. He leads their team to three victories in a row, laughing and cheering loudly along with everyone else, like he hadn’t been overwhelmed with anxiety just a few hours earlier. Something warms in Buck at the thought that he helped with that smile, and it’s a feeling he thinks he could get used to, a job he wouldn’t mind having if it meant Eddie was this happy more often than not.

Despite it all — despite good friends and good food and the feeling of Eddie’s shoulder pressed against his, Buck still feels the tendrils of doubt and panic floating around him. They’re bad enough during competitions normally, but pair them with what happened at his parents’ house — being reminded of how he’ll never live up to their lofty image of him, even if he does make it to Beijing — and everything just feels dark and cold, and he doesn’t think his lungs are working properly. He leaves the table, says he’s going to the bathroom, but ends up outside instead. WhirlyDome is in the older half of a shopping center in downtown Hershey, and the outside has been renovated since he was last here, now featuring an elaborate fountain surrounded by benches and newly paved pathways to the other stores. He sinks down on the nearest bench, the cool October air grounding him, making it easier to think, easier to try and smash down all these swirling emotions he’s trying not to feel.

Eddie finds him there, sits down next to him on the bench without saying anything. They stay in companionable silence, watching the fountain dance and the people bustle back and forth across the plaza, getting last minute shopping in before the stores close.

“I’m sorry dinner sucked,” Eddie says eventually, quiet and sincere.

Buck shrugs. “I knew it would. Just got my hopes up too high that things would be different.”

Eddie nods, eyes drifting back to the fountain. Now that they’re alone and the excitement from the games is gone, he can see the slightly weary lines of Eddie’s shoulders, see how he’s still curling in on himself, like he’s trying to escape into his own body.

“How are you?” Buck asks, knocking his knee against Eddie’s gently. “I know this isn’t exactly a quiet night in.”

“I’m alright. Better than I would be, thanks to you.”

“What did I do?”

Eddie’s staring at the ground, but his cheeks are flushing pink, and Buck wants to reach out and feel the heat of them under his fingertips.

“You were there,” he says. “I’m usually alone when I start feeling like that, and nothing makes it better. But I wasn’t alone this time.”

I don’t want you to be alone, Buck thinks, and these thoughts he’s been having — about Eddie, about being with Eddie — are getting louder and louder and harder to ignore. Especially now, when it’s just the two of them, and Eddie’s eyes are sparkling like gems under the street lights.

It’s almost hilarious that barely six weeks ago, and for 10 very long years, he could hardly stand the sight of him.

Eddie finally looks up from the ground, facing Buck, and they’re so much closer than he thought they were. He can count every eyelash, smell his cologne, watch his eyes trace over Buck’s face, from his eye to his lips and back again.

Buck doesn’t even realize he’s leaning in until his vision starts to blur, and he stops short. He tries to move back slowly, casually, but then firm hands are cupping his jaw, pulling him forward until soft lips meet his own. There’s no fireworks, no angels singing, just warm molasses in his veins, spreading to every part of him until he’s so warm he’s certain he must be glowing. His hands twist into Eddie’s jacket, pulling him as close as possible until he’s practically in his lap. They move to his shirt, feeling the abs he’s been thinking about for weeks now, and he almost melts right to the ground at the sound Eddie sighs into his mouth.

He’s not sure how long they kiss, but it doesn’t feel like long enough by the time they come up for air. He doesn’t go far, still close enough to feel Eddie’s breath fan across his lips, but he’s not sure what to do now. He wants to know what this means (if it means anything at all), he wants to know what Eddie’s thinking, he wants to memorize the way Eddie tastes and feel his abs for real.

His phone buzzes in his pocket, making them both jump. It’s a text from Maddie, telling him they’re car is here and asking where the hell they went. He looks back at Eddie, still so close, and swallows down the urge to kiss him again and tell his friends to leave them here.

“We should— we have to go,” he says, gesturing toward the parking lot. Eddie’s eyes are flitting over his face again, unreadable but still bright. He nods finally, standing up and offering his hand to Buck. He can’t fight the smile or the blush that he feels, so he doesn’t, taking Eddie’s hand to help him stand. They stay put for a minute, until Eddie squeezes his hand and drops it, smiling that soft smile again as he turns away.

Buck smiles himself, still full of warmth and lips still tingling, before following Eddie to the car.

~~~~~~~~~~

The ride back is quiet, everyone tired and settling back into the competition mindset they were able to let go of for a few hours. Buck feels it too, already running step sequences in his head again, but he keeps getting distracted. Eddie’s sitting next to him in the back seat of the Lyft, head tipped back and eyes closed, looking at peace for the first time all day. Buck tries to stop, tries to keep his focus, but his eyes keep drifting back to Eddie’s jaw, the cut of his cheekbones, the stubble shadowing his cheeks. It’s hard to remember what edges he’s supposed to hit tomorrow when he keeps thinking about how that stubble felt under his lips.

They silently make their way back to their room, and Buck knows they need to talk. He’s trying to figure out where the hell to start as he turns on the light in the small entryway, illuminating everything in a light that feels too harsh for whatever is currently simmering between them. Eddie’s right behind him when he turns around, looking just as unsure as Buck feels. It’s comforting, them being on the same page, but Buck hates that he’s responsible for making Eddie feel like this.

He can’t figure out where to start, mouth opening and closing like a fish as he tries to figure out what to say. Eddie takes pity on him eventually, reaching for his hand again.

“Let’s talk tomorrow?” he asks. “After free skates.”

It’s an out that Buck is more than willing to take. Not that he doesn’t want to talk, he just...can’t. Not right now. So he nods, squeezing Eddie’s hand in thanks. He goes to pull away, but Eddie’s grip stays firm.

“It wasn’t nothing to me,” he says, tilting his head until Buck meets his eye. “I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing or what it meant for you, but it was something for me.”

Buck’s doesn’t know what to do with that, either. He wants to kiss Eddie again and he wants to run far away from him and he wants to skate, but he can’t until the morning. So he just nods again, and it seems to be enough. Eddie nods back, finally dropping his hand as he heads into the bathroom and shuts the door.

Buck doesn’t bother waiting for his turn, just strips out of his dress clothes and crawls into bed. He falls asleep fast, dreams of brown eyes and triple axels — taking off, rising, and falling, falling, falling…

~~~~~~~~~~

He knows he’s falling before his ass hits the ice.

It was inevitably, really — he felt like he was fighting himself through the entire program, trying to keep it from completely unraveling. He knows that to anyone else, any casual fan and even some analysts, he looked good, strong, put together right until the end. But he knows that this isn’t his best. And this fall is definitely going to cost him.

He recovers quickly, finishing the rest of the program as close to perfectly as he can manage. He smiles and bows, waves to his friends in the stands, tries to pretend like he’s okay with knowing that he’s definitely not winning this gold.

It’s his own fault. He’d let his parents worm their way into his brain again, amplifying the self doubt that was already lingering, making him second guess every move, even the things he knows are good. Pair that with the fact that he can’t stop thinking about Eddie — not just the kiss, but his smile as he took the ice, his effortless jumps — and it was a miracle he only fell once.

He takes silver, four points behind Eddie’s gold. The fact that it was that fall that did him in stings worse than anything.

At the medal ceremony, he catches Eddie’s eye for the first time all day on the podium, and surprises himself with the genuine smile he gives him. It’s certainly not Eddie’s fault, what happened today — he didn’t ask to take up most of Buck’s thoughts, Buck let that happen. And if he keeps letting it happen, he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to skate clean again.

He knows they still need to talk, and he knows exactly what he needs to say, but he really doesn’t want to say it.

Luckily, he doesn’t have to say anything right away. Eddie disappears after the presser and doesn’t join him and May in the stands for the free dance. Buck tries to ignore the empty seat next to him, but it’s harder than usual.

They have a late flight back to LA, and Eddie’s already packed but the time Buck makes it back to the room. They stand across from each other in the entryway, just like last night, but the tension in the air feels wary under Buck’s skin instead of hopeful.

“You were amazing today,” Buck blurts out, not at all how he wanted to start this conversation. It’s worth it, though, for the smile and blush he gets from Eddie.

“Thanks,” he says, eyes on the floor. “So were you.”

Jesus, just tell him, Buck thinks, and he squares his shoulders like he’s preparing for a fight.

“It was something for me, too,” he says softly. “Yesterday, it— it definitely wasn’t nothing.”

Eddie looks at him, waiting, and Buck hesitates.

He really, really doesn’t want to say it.

“But?” Eddie prompts, because of course he knows there’s more.

“But,” Buck sighs. “But I can’t— We should wait. Until after the Olympics. I don’t think either of us want to be too distracted before then, and I don’t know if you know this, but you are very...very distracting.” Eddie snorts and rolls his eyes, and Buck lets his gaze rake over Eddie from top to bottom, distracting himself for just a little bit longer.

“You’re right,” Eddie says quietly. “Let’s wait. And I’ll try and be less distracting, so I can keep kicking your ass fair and square.”

“Oh really?” Buck laughs, and Eddie’s laughing too, and it feels good and normal and Buck doesn’t want it to stop. But it has to. Because as much as Buck wants to dive deeper into this...whatever this is with Eddie, he wants to win more. Not much more (which is a thought he never expected to have about anyone), but definitely more.

And if anyone in the world understands that feeling, it’s Eddie.

There’s a knock on the door, Bobby giving them a 15 minute warning before they’re supposed to head to the airport. Buck moves to head toward his things so he can pack, but Eddie grabs his arm before he can go too far. His eyes look soft and sad and hopeful and a million other things Buck is feeling too, and he just wants to drown in them, in this moment, before he has to go back out into the world, alone.

Eddie leans forward, softly kissing Buck’s cheek, lingering in his space before he heads out of the room, door quietly shutting behind him.

#buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #911 fox #buddie fic #911 fic #9-1-1 #fs au #ficcery #the self indulgence really popped out on this one because i lOVE whirlyball sm #also they continue to be idiots but that's not totally my fault #they're just Like That

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egoludes · 4 years

Text

let me come home: one.

Summary: After years at a dead-end job shouldering everyone’s expectations for you but your own, you’re finally free to be whoever you want, go wherever you want. That is, until a series of unfortunate events strand you in Amber’s End, where the sheriff – and notoriously unmated pack alpha – decides to take you in.

Pairing: alpha!Steve Rogers x omega!Reader

Notes: So, so excited to be kicking this off - eep! This chapter and the next will be a lot of setting the stage before we really dive in, but I hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing it anyway! As a reminder, this is for @official-and-unstable-satan‘s fic-off challenge! @fallen-comrade challenged me with gifs one and two, the first one being where our story begins. Divider credit goes to @writeyourmindaway!

Chapter warnings: Werewolf AU, A/B/O dynamics.

series masterlist / main masterlist / add yourself to my taglist!

The town of Amber’s End is a quiet one — has been as long as anyone can remember. Even Steve Rogers, their sheriff of fifteen years, can’t recall a time that trouble beyond a couple unruly pups had made it to his desk. Still, he takes his duties seriously. At the start of every day, he makes rounds, a watchful eye on each business as it opens. And at noon, six, and midnight sharp, he shifts into his wolf form and patrols the forests that circle the town.

It's Friday afternoon in a deep winter, the type that brought knee-high snow and teeth-chattering cold as early as November. A fresh layer of snow yields beneath his paws and he looks across the forest sprawl for disturbances. Usually, they’re far and few between. Most Amber’s End folk live near Main Street to keep the pack close, so it’s uncommon for anyone to venture this far without a reason. Even more so in the dismal weather. But today, Steve is surprised to pick up something — someone — at the far edge of the woods.

His first whiff of them is brief; enough to flare his nostrils, but lacking the potency for his senses to follow. He pauses still, head turning to discern the source. Then, a breeze kicks up — snares the aroma and makes it stick. There’s cinnamon and ginger, a hint of nutmeg too. Homey, but pungent scents that strike him, half because of how good they are, and half because he’s never smelled them before.

Peculiar, when Steve makes a habit of knowing every wolf in his town.

Just like that, he’s on the hunt, moving as fast as his legs can carry him through the thick of bare bushes and trees. He hears Bucky scolding him already for running headfirst into danger, no heed for protocol or his own safety. But, something in the scent’s light profile makes him think there’s nothing to worry about.

When he clears the trees around a far west meadow, he’s inclined to believe he’s right.

What he finds is you: a wolf barely half his size with dark brown fur and golden streaks down your back and hind legs. Between your size and the quality of your scent, it isn’t hard to work out that you’re an omega — unmated, going by the markless neck — and his interest is piqued. Not many omegas come through this area alone.

Just as he sees you, you see him and your body locks up. You’re not surprised to see another werewolf around — the area’s known for its dense population of your kind — but you’ve never seen one that size, even among your pack growing up. You don’t even need to get close to know it’s an Alpha, his presentation as visible in his presence as it is in his woodsy smell.

The fact that you aren’t in his pack means he can’t speak to you when you’re like this. But, it’s obvious that he’s inspecting you, assessing the foreign wolf that’s appeared before him. The scrutiny makes you just as wary of him as he is of you. Threatened alphas are a bad bunch, and you don’t want to do anything that’ll provoke him.

That vigilance only grows as he starts to close the distance, deliberate steps until he’s only feet away and towering over you. You acknowledge his status in turn. Head lowered, body arched, you’re nearly shrinking away; not afraid, but cautious. The Alpha responds by circling you, deep blue eyes tracing you from snout to back paw as though deciphering you from that alone. Now that he’s so close, you make out a steady, rumbling growl every time the wind picks up, which only compounds the growing tension.

You can’t seem to figure him out.

There’s another muted moment of inspection, then suddenly the Alpha goes from circling distance to inches away. His nose meets a patch of fur below your jaw, pressing down with such impact it moves your head, and it comes so abruptly you have to assume it’s pure instinct. Even the most controlled Alphas can’t stop the feral tendencies. And like him, you react without thinking, try to pull away. The shift earns a warning gnash of his teeth that commands you even without words. Stay put.

He’s soaking you in, likely to memorize the new smell. It dawns on you then that he’s probably not just an alpha, but the alpha — Amber’s End leader and protector. It would explain the caution, the way he vets you and the threat you pose. A few more minutes pass tensely, his breath hot on your throat as he drags his snout down the length of it. Then, he’s back at his circling distance, less intense and surly, and giving you a relenting look.

You can stay.

When he’s certain he’s understood, the Alpha tips his head towards a green Jeep at the end of the meadow. You nod once to answer his unspoken question, which is all it takes to start him walking you to it. Once there, he gives you his back - an offer of privacy - and you take the moment to shift and tug on your clothes. You clear your throat when you’re decent and he turns to find you bundled up from head to toe. If he were human, he might chuckle - even with werewolves running hot, this area’s known for its unusually brutal chill and it seems you did your homework. He can’t see more than your eyes under all the layers, but it doesn’t do much to stop the scent of you wafting out to meet him. He’s oddly pleased about that.

Meanwhile, you take him in, less on edge than earlier, but not completely settled. Being human while he stays a wolf makes you more vulnerable than you’d already been, and you’re uneasy, not knowing what he’s planning next. You shift on your heels in a nervous tick and quickly, he picks up on your nerves. Shifting up on his legs to take a running stance, the Alpha glances at your car expectantly. You follow the gaze and stare for a spell before you realize he means for you to drive while he runs along to guide the way. Briefly, you consider refusing ---- pack alpha or not, you don’t know where he could be taking you. But, it doesn’t bode well to reject his authority so soon after receiving permission to be here. So, you nod, swallow thickly, then climb into your car for the ride.

It turns out to be a short one, which you’re grateful for. And your nerves wane some when you realize that he’s just taking you to his car -- a large Dodge truck emblazoned with the county sheriff seal.

Like you, the larger wolf’s first step is to take on his human form, disappearing behind his vehicle while you get out of yours. When he emerges, fully shifted and dressed, you nearly lose your breath. The sight of him shouldn’t surprise you — you know that any wolf with that much presence would naturally have that translate into their human form. But, you still aren’t prepared for how utterly imposing this man is. Hair grown dark from the season, he easily boasts a height of six feet and then some, and shoulders broad enough to fill a doorway. He’s pulled on a t-shirt, flannel, and slack jeans that do nothing to hide the muscle that bounds him, and when he watches you through the hair falling into his eyes, you feel yourself tremble. Alphas are intimidating as it is, but him — he’s something else. “What’s your name?” His voice is as impactful as he is, and it takes you a moment to work up the nerve to answer.

When you do, he nods curtly. “Steve Rogers - I’m the sheriff here. You just passing through?”

You nod back, the action a lot less short coming from you as you fold your hands in front of you. “Yeah - doing a little road trip and this is one of my stops. I was hoping to get a room for a night before I head on.” You don’t offer more than that, and he doesn’t press you to. No probing questions about what you’re doing on the road, no offhand comments about being on your own --- just acceptance in the form of a hum and a glance down the road leading into town. You have to hope all his pack members are as gracious.

“Alright,” he says finally, eyes returning to your face. “I can show you the way. The roads this time of year can be a handful if you’re not used to it, so I don’t want you wandering. Hop back in your car and we’ll go.”

The second ride behind him proves to be a lot less daunting than the first. You take advantage of the broken tension to take in the sights. Amber’s End is known for being isolated and close knit, but you’d never heard about how picturesque the area is too. The woods grow less dense the closer you get to civilization, evergreens blurring to nothing in your periphery; but the idyllic nature stays put. The first buildings you see are quaint and comfortable, like something out of a 90’s film, and you find that’s a running theme as you follow Steve down what seems to be their main road.

For one in the afternoon, it’s surprisingly empty, the only signs of life people you catch through windows and briefly cracked doors. But, you imagine this is normal for them -- this slow, even pace. It intrigues you, and you make a note to do some exploring once you’re settled in.

From there, it doesn’t take long for Steve to get you to the Hummingbird Motel; Amber’s End’s first and only lodging in town. For a place established in 1935, it’s quite modern; exterior designed and painted in ways that boast knowledge of industry trends. Whether the rooms reflect that is to be determined, but you’re admittedly eager to find out. Steve pulls into the parking lot first, but doesn’t drive into a spot. Instead, he makes room for you and rolls down his window to get you to do the same. “I’ve got to head back in, but the folks who run this place are real nice - you’ll be in good hands.”

You smile at him from your window. “Thank you - I appreciate the help.”

For the first time since you’ve met, Steve smiles as well, the spread of his mouth giving his rugged face a more handsome quality. It’s almost hard to believe it’s the same man who’d so stoically assessed you moments before. “‘Course. That’s what I’m here for. You take care.” His final goodbye comes in a wave before he peels out of the lot. You keep watching him until he turns the corner and disappears out of sight.

Not a bad start, you think to yourself, slipping out the driver’s seat to grab your duffle from the trunk. The motel lobby is stark empty when you enter, which gives you an eerie feeling you’re not particularly fond of. When an old woman -- Peggy, she shares in a winsome British accent -- finally emerges at the front desk, you realize that that feeling may have been instinct teasing out the bad news: you’d just missed the last vacant room.

You’re disappointed, for sure, but nothing you’re not getting used to. You’ve made a point, after all, to hit out-of-the-way towns ---- the kinds of places that don’t always have the most forgiving accommodations. So, you’ve slept in your car more times than you ever planned for now, and in varying degrees of weather to boot. You wave off Peggy’s apologetic look with a reassuring grin before returning to your Jeep to leave the motel behind.

////

A few hours later, it’s the dinner rush at Ruby’s Diner, and you’re scrolling through an article with a french fry in your free hand and a bag of souvenirs beside you in the booth. After leaving the Hummingbird, you’d done the rounds on Main Street as planned and were pleasantly surprised by the range of goods it had to offer.

You tried not to get much, but couldn’t steer away from a few trinkets for your parents and the friends keeping up with your wayward travels. Now, all that’s left for you and Amber’s End is the rest of your cheeseburger dinner (outrageously good) and a chilly night in the backseat of your Jeep ---- a night you’ve prepared for with a blanket from your last shop.

You’re mid-swipe and bite when you hear your name from above you. You don’t need to turn to know who it is; that piney smell and rumbling voice are impossible to forget or misplace, and your cheeks are already warm when you turn to find Steve looking down on you.

In the time since you last saw him, he’s changed into a different shirt -- a blue denim button down that fits him well -- and found himself a jacket. It’s thinner than what you’d expect for a place so cold, but your guess is that he barely feels it, big as he is. You smile wordlessly to greet him.

“I thought that was you,” he muses, as if he hadn’t picked you out by scent alone. “How’s the rest of your day been? Settled in alright?”

You lift a shoulder in a shrug, smile still intact. “Hasn’t been too bad! Just missed a room at the Hummingbird, but I’m making for it with a little retail therapy and some good french fries.”

You expect him to respond with something equally light, but Steve’s expression turns sour instead. “Missed a room? You mean there were no vacancies?”

“Didn’t sound like it, but no big deal. I’ve slept in my car before, so what’s one night before I head out in the morning.”

Steve scoffs, a reaction that has you blinking at him in confusion. “Absolutely not,” he chides, hands coming up to either side of his trim waist as his gaze on you narrows. “The temperature goes double below here most nights, you can’t sleep in your car.” He weighs a thought, twisting his mouth to the side before nodding when he settles on it. “How about you stay with me. I have a guest room that’s ready to go.”

You, on the other hand, are ready to protest, brows knitting and mouth parted around the words. But, Steve beats you to the punch with a heavy glance, sternness only an Alpha can manage flashing in his eyes.

For a beat, there’s nothing but him staring, and you watching back, prepared to insist if you have to. Then, the diner door swings open ahead of some eager teens and a chill sweeps up to take the room. You stiffen so fast, your teeth grind on impact, and like clockwork, Steve’s scent stinks of sharp assuredness. When you look back, he’s got an eyebrow raised, expectant and sure, and his arms folded over his chest.

Your body sags with a sigh. “Fine,” you give in, “but only for tonight.”

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers au #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fic #alpha!steve rogers x reader #werewolf!steve rogers #werewolf!steve rogers x reader

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brooklynislandgirl · 3 years

Text

A boy, a girl, and their symbiote...

@tangleweave {{xx}}

It’s quite alright that he laughs ~gently~ at her and not just because she loves the shy sound of it, that she feels she could wrap herself up inside of the sound and experience the same warm comfort as when he allows her to occasionally borrow one of his hoodies. There’s always a reluctance that comes with having to give it back even though she knows he needs it more than she ever will but that’s not really the point. There’s also the fact that she’d been trying to be funny after all and Eddie’s laugh held none of the nastiness she can sometimes hear in other people’s tones when they are trying to be mean right to her face as though she can’t understand what was going on around her. But in all the time she has known him, Eddie has never treated her so shabbily. He has been a gracious friend. Kind. Without the condescending feeling she gets sometimes in the social circles she haunts because she has to. Eddie is different in that he listens to her and to the things she never really says aloud. She doesn’t know exactly how he learned to do that, if it’s a skill he’s taken away from his past or if it’s a natural empathy baked into his very being. It’s entirely possible that it’s an organic blend of both, something she’ll think about later. When there’s time to breathe and reflect, which she does a little too often. Takes their moments together and strings them together into a mental photo album where she can chart the progress they have made from just this side of naked hostility to genial silence, from avidly engaging each other onto the rooftop to trying to coax him into her home like some feral creature that he isn’t, because she’s worried about how cold it gets and if he’s eaten a good meal. Because she wants to know he’s safe, that he has someone looking out for him. He deserves that much. And...now. She isn’t really sure what now is.

She’d never really had the impression that Eddie saw her in this kind of light. None of his actions have ever reminded her of the kind of people who want to capture her like an exotic creature to be put on display until the newness wore off and they found that her meagre charms and her unwillingness to be exactly what they wanted did not hold much value to them. He does not see her as some cute childlike thing that needs protecting from the world and maybe especially from herself, either. She might not feel attraction the way most people do, but she’s absolutely sure that he’s never looked at her in the way that makes her feel like he’s devouring her with a single gaze. So perhaps she’s put it out of mind and got on with being friends, taking delight in just spending time with him, listening to the stories he has to offer, and living in those moments. This isn’t exactly that, though, is it?

When she thinks of Eddie ~far more often than she has any right to~ she has a distinct mental image. There is a sadness that always seems to linger in the back of his eyes especially when he thinks no one is watching. Which would lead to him lowering his face and staring into his coffee and the way that his hands would wrap around the cup always felt like he was afraid to let go. Gives him the impression of searching though she’s never sure for what. Sometimes she swears he’s having some internal debate with himself that comes across as starts and falters of sound, that soft-spoken tone that sends shivers down her spine in the best of ways, but still never really becoming words. And in her own way, she knows what that’s like, having so much inside but no real way of expressing it.

Lately though, it’s becoming harder to see him that way. It starts with the way he makes her laugh. Something she hasn’t really done in a long time, and then follows up with thought-provoking questions, and not ones from his list which had been terribly fun. The way he offers to walk her home when he realises she’s afraid of the dark fits in as well, followed closely with the way he curls up protectively around her on the bus or cable-cars. Stupid touristy things he doesn’t seem to mind at all. The keen and sometimes biting observations that he makes of people and the world that compel a shift of perspective. Murmured against her ear, a private conversation that has the power to weaken her knees a little. And more slowly, maybe, she begins to add...other things. How much she likes his smile when he offers it, and the fullness of his lips. How soft they look even when chapped. His eyes again, this time deep and soulful, how they darken in colour, in emotion. How it brings out the sprinkle of the palest freckles across his nose that like hers don’t show very often. She notices how steady, patient, and most importantly, how gentle his hands are. Eddie is, after all, a handsome man if a little rough around the edges. And maybe she really likes those too, a sharp contrast to her own softness. She wants to know what it would feel like to cut herself on them, and if he would kiss the wounds better. Eddie is an orchid, slowly blooming into a beautiful person right before her eyes. A person she wants to nurture and cultivate. Except maybe those aren’t the right words. Again, feelings she has no right to want. At what point do those kinds of nascent wishes become pushy? Seems like some kind of underlying motivation that has been so very carefully orchestrated so that she might take advantage of him? This is the critical part of relationships that are unfathomable to Beth, something everyone else seems to be aware of but that she missed out. Like there’s some kind of manual and it’s written in a foreign language that she doesn’t speak. And what good does it do to become aware of being increasingly attracted to Eddie...when he isn’t interested? She’s never been able to say he’s been less than a perfect gentleman to her. That he doesn’t go out of his way to carefully broach subjects that might make her uncomfortable and then if there’s any hint of distress, to quickly course-correct. If she’s to act in kind, how does she go about asking if maybe he isn’t a little like her? What did her friend call it? A different kind of umbrella, so to speak. She’s never felt an appropriate time has come to try and figure that out in any serious fashion.

Except... It’s quiet now. The wine still lingers on her tongue and soaks into the back of her mind, easing some of the tension right out of her, even if she’s watching him more intently than she ever has before. Wills him to maybe hear that unspoken question as he sits there, comfortable on the couch because the words escape her. He doesn’t recoil from the tap against his leg. Not that she can imagine he would really do that, but one never knows. And sometimes Eddie has odd reactions to general affection, at least from her and her inability to keep her hands entirely to herself.

And despite the myriad of problems she could catalogue, the subtle vocalisation is enough to have her pause precariously on the edge of the cliff they’re on. She can feel the churning of nerves deep in the pit of her stomach. Rogue butterfly wings pounding to be let out or smothered by any other feeling. By itself it should have no power over her except that it does. Makes her want to hear it again at a much closer distance, letting its echo wash over her. There’s such a power to that, one that gains as much as it gives. She can feel it dance beneath her fingertips, the way it feels like he almost presses back into them though she knows he hasn’t moved at all. It’s the wild flutter of his pulse, the song in his blood. It would only take a little pressure to have it gush over her lips and she’s very aware of that. Which is why she doesn’t listen to every instinct screaming for her to do so. She doesn’t want to take from Eddie, but to share. That’s an important distinction, the only one that would ever feel right. His ha comes out hot against her skin, strong. Tells her so much more about him than a hundred conversations, feels like witnessing the birth of islands and the death of mountains, all the life that comes between the two. And just as she’s on the verge of losing herself in the joy and terror of it all, he utters a single word that freezes her to the very marrow of her bones and her heart plunges somewhere down between her knees. Just like that… Eyes widen as she feels the instant backlash of having made a mistake she can’t take back.

She wants to. She should. She should blame the wine and the proximity and the fact that she read into his query wrong, through no fault of his own. That it isn’t his fault in the least. Anything that might make him laugh again and find her silly and that will make him stay. But before she can get the seeds of her apology in fertile soil he continues on. For a moment she finds herself unable to experience anything that isn’t the exquisite ghost of his touch in return. Pressing hers closer as if for one brief moment they both share the same fear and wonderment. And she has no idea what to do about that.

He’s not pulling away. If anything, he’s encouraging her. At least that is what it sounds like. And it all cascades again. And she finds herself briefly leaning into that caress, the rough pad of a thumb just cresting the arch of her cheek bone. No satin could compete with the delicate nature, and if there’s one thing that Beth knows beyond any doubt it is that touch doesn’t lie. As long as she’s known Eddie, neither does he. Not to her, anyway. Maybe that makes this all a little more unforgivable, but she will deal with the guilt and the consequences come morning. No one, even in her wildest fantasies which are very few and far between, more nameless want than anything else, has ever said something so simple but so full of meaning. Or in a way that eats her alive with newly sparked heat. Because the truth is, most people she knows never put her wishes at the forefront of anything, much less something so delicate in nature. “I…” She shifts. Rises up from the floor to pour herself over him, one slender thigh on either side of his hips, as best as the restraint of her skirt allows her to. Her other hand lifts to cup the other cheek, brushes across the soft stubble of his jaw and from slightly loftier a height, she finds herself looking him directly in the eye a moment, her voice drying up in her throat, forcing her to swallow. It’s her turn to search for something that lacks all definition, that can’t be given shape in words.

She’s forgotten how to breathe. Or maybe doesn’t need to at all, her gaze scouring every inch of his face before returning to his eyes. Because the question is still there. Does she want to do this? Yes. More than he can know. Does she know how? In the most basic of biological functions, also yes. Her lashes drift down to shutter green and gold from the world before she gets closer, and settles her lips to his. She catches the lower tier of his lips between her own. There’s still the same heat and the same temptation in doing so, that has not diminished from her earlier exploration but the kiss is far more gentle. Softer. Sweeter. But with a gradation of intensity that mimicked the pounding of bird wings inside of her chest, against the cage of bone surrounding it. Mimicked below as her hips roll into and against his own but doesn’t offer her any more leverage.

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